Transmission
by EruditeWitch
Summary: Sequel to "Potterwatch". In the aftermath of war, George, Percy, Ron, and various other characters need to pull themselves back together. But will the pain of loss and the guilt of surviving leave them overtaken?
1. Prologue

**AN: Here's the sequel to "Potterwatch", which can be viewed by going to my author page. Please...PLEASE review. A lot of you have signed up for author alerts, so I know you know I know you are reading. So review!**

**Transmission Prologue **

The pain in Minerva Mcgonagall's limbs was beginning to return as the adrenaline of the battle was starting to leave her, and her bones felt older than ever. She rubbed her aching shoulders as she walked through the entrance hall, stepping heavily around the rubble. She stumbled through the ruins of her beloved school, dotted with the blood of her students, colleagues, and friends. The victory had outweighed the tragedy, and her euphoria stymied her sadness, but once the clean up was underway, the losses that were suffered came into the forefront.

Minerva took a deep breath and mustered up that familiar strength in which she had always taken great pride. She walked purposely to The Great Hall to begin the long and arduous process of picking up the pieces. She looked around the majestic room, and her strength almost failed her as her heart leapt in her throat.

The long, wooden tables had been pushed aside, and a veritable makeshift hospital had been put in its place. There was chaos everywhere; cries of pain, dead bodies, and people flying panicked from one injured person to the other were filling the scene with images of the aftermath of war. Minerva knew she could not fall victim to her grief; not yet at least. She needed to take care of everyone else first. Madame Pomfrey walked by her hurriedly.

"Poppy! If you don't mind, please go up to the hospital wing and ready yourself for the injured. I shall send you help and patients in a few minutes," she commanded. The tired woman nodded and rushed out the door and up the stairs of the entrance hall.

Minerva scanned the room again, her eyes landing on the Weasley Family crowded around the dead body of Fred. She bit her lip to prevent it from quivering, resolving to leave the family alone with their grief and moving on to areas where she could actually provide some help. She spotted Hermione Granger and Angelina Johnson standing outside the group of Weasleys, looking just as stricken, but also apprehensive and unsure. Minerva decided to occupy them for the time being, as a way to numb and stall the inevitable. She walked slowly over to the two young women so as to not disturb the Weasley's makeshift memorial.

"Miss Granger, Miss Johnson, may I speak to you?" she whispered, beckoning them away from their posts. As they walked to the front of the hall, she noticed Harry Potter sitting next to the slain bodies of Remus and Tonks. Minerva's composure was wavering with every second. When they were away from the chaos of the Great Hall and in the entryway, she did what she did best and instructed.

"I understand how hard all this must be, and trust me, I empathize. However, I also know that things need to be done and it may help to pass this hard time. Are you ladies up to helping me get things somewhat in order?" She asked, so worried she would appear cold. But the girls nodded resolutely, jutting out their jaws in defiance of their own emotions.

"Excellent! Miss Granger, can you find Neville Longbottom and go to the Hospital Wing to assist Madame Pomfrey? We are going to need to decide who we can help here, and who we'll need to send to St. Mungo's."

Hermione nodded and walked quickly through the crowds toward Neville.

"Ms. Johnson, can you find Wood and start removing the dead?" Minerva started. Angelina looked suddenly sick and frightened, but immediately straightened herself and nodded. Minerva couldn't stop a tear from escaping her eyes and put her arm gently around the tall young woman's shoulders.

"I know this is hard. We all want to fall apart, but you are a bright and strong witch. You will get through this, but don't rush recovery, take your time. For now, we simply need to postpone the inevitable," Minerva added.

Angelina nodded solemnly and fought back tears.

"I will be stationed to catalog the deceased. Mister Shackelbolt has contracted some allied Ministry employees to finish the process of dealing with the dead."

Angelina ran toward Oliver Wood to give him instructions. A clearing of the throat drew her attention downward.

"Oh yes! Filius, are you undertaking the necessary repairs?" she asked, crouching down and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Of course, Minerva. Pamona and Horace are with Poppy, creating healing potions. Sybill, Sinistra, and Vector are to assist me in repairs. Is there anything else you need?" he asked, a tired look in his usually light-filled eyes.

"No, thank you. Besides the injured, deceased, and repairs, the members of The Ministry that still remain will handle everything else, including the criminals," she said, watching as her dear friend scuttled off, his wand drawn to set about working.

Minerva transfigured a table and summoned some parchment to begin counting their losses. The first body to be carried through nearly shrank her down to nothing.

"Colin Creevy," said Oliver Wood. The small boy was being levitated with a sheet over his body. She wrote his name down slowly, as if delaying her guilt.

"_If only I would have ensured he left the castle_," she thought, as a stream of bodies floated into the castle, their carriers calling out names. Each name seemed to tear away another piece of her. Finally, after two hours, there were only two bodies left, as she had decided to leave Fred to Arthur and Molly.

"Remus and Nymphadora Lupin," said Harry quietly, Lee Jordan following behind while levitating Tonks.

"It is done," she said, as Potter nodded and floated Remus to the Ministry officials before slowly walking away from the crowd. Lee carefully floated Tonks out after her husband.

"Mr. Jordan, can you still access your radio signal equipment?"

"As far as I know."

"Could you please do a broadcast recounting what has transpired here, and memorializing all we have lost?" Minerva asked, handing him a copy of her list. "It would be best to bring your equipment here, as we cannot predict how safe things are at present."

"Sure. No pressure or anything," Lee mumbled. Minerva almost felt like smiling at this, nostalgic for the carelessness of youth embodied in Lee's particular brand of humor. She left the nearly deserted hall and made for her sleeping quarters near Gryffindor Tower.

She slowly slipped out of her robes and into the comfort of her traditional tartan dressing gown. She sat at her mirror and took down her hair, letting it fall in long silver locks down her back. As she began to brush, the movement in a photograph on her modest vanity table caught her eye.

She was younger in this picture, perhaps in her late twenties, and she had just started teaching at Hogwarts. In the photo, Albus Dumbledore, still possessing his auburn hair, had his arm around her, and a triumphant smile on his face. Minerva rose, grabbed the photo, lay gently upon her small bed … and sobbed.

"Good morning, witches and wizards, family and friends. It's a fine day to be alive in the wee hours of May 1st, 1997. A fine day indeed," Lee started, alone in an abandoned classroom, his lips almost touching his makeshift microphone. He had no idea how to proceed, but was acutely aware that his voice on the radio was his contribution, and he had to honor it…if not for himself, then for Fred.

"Approximately 4 hours ago, Harry Potter vanquished The Dark Lord, and with the help of many brave witches and wizards, we now are free from fear. Kingsley Shackelbolt will be our interim Minister of Magic as we all pick up the pieces and get on with our lives. Please contact anyone you can to help us rebuild our world during these crucial weeks.

"So as the sun rises, stand up and be proud. It's a new day for the Wizarding World, and we need to meet this new era head on."

He spoke carefully and with more power than he thought he was capable of. Lee felt like an asshole, speaking such platitudes, especially considering the hole boring into his heart where Fred was supposed to be. But the show much go on, so did he.

"I will now read the names of every man, woman, and creature who gave his or her life last night so we could be free."

Lee proceeded, unflinching, as he listed his friends on the air. He dreaded the end of the list where the neat scrawl held the name of a lifelong friend.


	2. Sister

**AN: Okay! This chapter has been in my since I read Deathly Hallows. I'm not kidding. I've finally put it on paper and I really hope you all enjoy it. Get ready for tears.**

**_ Sister _  
**

Hermione Granger attempted to stifle her racing heart as chaos erupted around her in the Hospital Wing. Injured witches and wizards, injured friends reaching out for her help were flowing in. Madam Pomfrey was an effective leader, commanding the still standing to aid the ill. She was currently trying to piece together and heal the large bloody wound overtaking Lavender Brown as Parvati held her hand in worry.

"Hermione!" Neville shouted, drawing her attentions back to the task at hand. Dean Thomas was levitating Seamus Finnigan, a torn rag doing nothing to stop the blood gushing out of a wound on his leg. Hermione rushed over and directed him to an open cot.

"I'll be fine, help the others first," Seamus groaned, though his face was sweating and screwed up in pain.

"No!" shouted Dean sternly, immediately taking Seamus' hand. "You need help, fuck's sake I will not lose you…not after I've finally found my way back.

"Dittany, please, Neville," she said quietly, a knot in her throat affecting her vocal chords. She was struck by the open affection and concern between Dean and Seamus, but quickly let it go. She knew she would act the same way toward Ron. She was diverted away from the question that thought raised about Seamus and Dean as Neville placed a freshly made dish of dittany in her hand.

"I must clean this before I can heal it, Seamus," Hermione said, studying the long, oozing wound that stretched down the length of Seamus' shin and partially exposed the bone. "This will hurt."

Dean took Seamus' bloody hand more tightly in his and leaned in, whispering in his ear. Hermione swept her wand over his leg, casting a Cleansing Spell. Seamus tried to hold back a scream as tears ran down his face, but eventually he yelled out. Hermione felt her own tears shed in empathy for her housemate. She dug her fingers generously into the cool dittany and swathed it over the bloody gash, sealing it almost instantly. Seamus' breathing slowed.

"Can you bandage this just in case? Also, find Slughorn and get some Blood-Replenishing Potion. Seamus looks deathly pale," she said to Neville, shaking. He put a hand on her back.

"Sure. Will you be okay?" he asked, looking very concerned.

Hermione nodded, moving quickly to the next person waiting for help. She knew she was useful here. She had a textbook awareness of general Healing Spells, but she ached to be near Ron. She had stood there in the Great Hall on the edge, wanting to grab him, hold him tightly, and comfort him. But she felt like an intruder on the Weasley family's sadness, so she did nothing. Now, all she wanted to do was make his hurt lessen in any way she could.

She finished up her tasks and Madame Pomfrey suggested she get some rest in Gryffindor Tower. Hermione hoped she could find Ron, Harry, and all of the Weasleys resting there too. She walked briskly away from the Hospital Wing, cleaning the blood off of her clothes as she went. However, she suddenly felt very sick. Everything she had done, seen, and felt on this day seemed to invade her mind.

Overwhelmed, she leaned over a bin in the deserted hallway and vomited, shaking violently.

* * *

Harry was unsure of what to do. He knew he was hungry and should eat, but after handing the bodies of Lupin and Tonks over to The Newly Established Interim Slap Dash Ministry, he didn't feel like summoning Kreacher and getting food. Yes, he was relieved and felt better than he had in ages, but he wanted to find his friends … he wanted to find Ginny. Harry felt he didn't have much to offer in the category of comfort, but he still wanted to be there for the Weasleys if they needed anything. He knew Hermione would chastise him for thinking so, but Harry couldn't help but feel slightly responsible for the horrible loss of Fred Wealsey.

As Harry padded thoughtfully through the halls, he heard someone coughing. He rounded the corner to find Hermione bent over a bin, her bushy hair falling around her face. Harry was slightly shocked at seeing her so ill composed, but rushed over and gathered her hair into his hands, casting a cleaning spell as he did so. He couldn't begin to imagine what was going through her complicated mind.

_Thoughts of what we were invade  
The miles that stand between  
We can't separate  
You're all I hoped you'd become_

Harry sat on his knees next to her and ran comforting circles down her back with his free hand. He marveled at how brave and compassionate she was, even now in the aftermath of war. He thought back to the rules-obsessed know-it-all of their first year and smiled at how different she had become … yet still she remained Hermione. He couldn't ask for a better friend. She had fought bravely, and now they had the rest of their lives to get back to some semblance of normality. Hermione finally sat back against the wall, shaking and catching her breath.

"Harry, there were so many," she cried, tears falling down her face. Harry put an arm around her and let her rest her head on his shoulder. Harry felt useful in this new role. No longer was he the beleaguered and reluctant hero…right now he was just Harry: Hermione's friend. It felt good that he could finally support her instead of the other way around.

"Poor Fred. I want to comfort them, but I'm not sure how," she cried.

"I know how you feel," he muttered. She backed away and met his eyes, that familiar all-knowing glance dancing in her dark brown irises.

"Have you spoken with Ginny yet?" she asked. Harry shook his head. Though she was sitting, she had still managed to put her hands on her hips and look at him sternly, puffy eyes and all.

Harry had to laugh to himself. She looked just like good old Hermione, despite all the pain she had suffered. It gave him endless contentment to know his best friend was still there and relatively unscathed. She returned his smile and giggled a little at her own demeanor.

**  
**_Sister I see you  
Dancing on the stage  
Of memory  
Sister I miss you_

"Remember when we were about to go through the trap door during our first year and you were convinced you weren't going to get expelled because Flitwick told you that you scored 112 percent on your exam?"

Hermione laughed and nodded. "My priorities are a little better now," she said, rising to her feet. She winced a little as she rose. Harry felt guilt surge further through him. She might always be sore from that horrible night. Harry took her hand, and turned her attention to him. She looked concerned and confused.

"I'm so sorry," he started.

Hermione went to question him, but he stopped her. He tried to hold back his own tears as he attempted to say what he had wanted to say for weeks now.

"I'm sorry I said his name. I'm sorry we were caught. I'm sorry for what they did to you…what she did. It should have been me," he said, a tear falling down his cheek. "You've always been family to me, you and Ron. I should have…" Harry tried to finish, but couldn't find his words. Thoughts he had been holding back while he tried to destroy Voldemort were invading his head at an alarming pace. This was just one of many.

Hermione flung her arms around him in her characteristic way and pulled him close.

"That's nothing compared to the moment I thought you were dead," she whispered.

Harry lingered there, holding her tightly until she pulled away.

"Come on, let's go to the common room and get some rest. I'm sure the Weasleys will be staying tonight," she said gently.

As they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione indicated her plans to go to Australia in two days to retrieve her parents. She would spend the next day in London getting their affairs in order, and then she would organize Portkeys to get her to them as soon as possible.

Harry wanted to go with her, but she insisted on doing this on her own, and he expected nothing less.

_Fleeting visits pass  
Still they satisfy  
Reminders of the next  
Overshadow goodbye  
Our flames burn as one_

Harry was impressed at her brilliance and a little shocked at the lengths she went to protect her family. Then again, Ron said it best: Hermione Granger was scary; brilliant, but scary. He had forgotten those little things that made her so brilliant throughout the past year, just taking for granted she would be there. Now that the dust had cleared, he could get a good look at all she did. Harry knew he owed Hermione and Ron more than he could ever repay, not that they would let him repay it anyway.

* * *

Ron Weasley straightened his back and attempted to remain stalwart, even amidst his family's overwhelming grief. He stood next to the table holding Fred, touching sides with Bill and Charlie to create a wall of protection between Fred's lifeless form and the rest of the Great Hall. Ron struggled to keep himself from crying as his mother wept, her head on Fred's chest. No tears fell when his father began weeping as well, as he hastily comforted her. Ron kept his delicate composure when he noticed the blank look on George's face as he held Fred's head in his lap. Ron even held it together when Fleur walked up and put her arms around Bill's waist, and he cried on her shoulder. Ron began to falter when Charlie broke down and took Fred's cold hand, crying into it. At last tears welled in Ron's eyes as he took in the vision of Percy, who was wiping droplets of tears from his horn-rimmed glasses.

As the pressure of their grief mounted, the only ones left standing in the Weasley family were Ron and Ginny, both of whom were fighting against the desire to fall victim to their anguish. He looked over at his sister, defiant with her jaw clenched as tightly as her fists. She looked torn between wanting to fall next to their parents and her need to stay strong. Ron knew how she was feeling, and he sympathized with the little girl that used to run barefoot through the high grass of their fields. What was going to happen to the fire that had always burned so brightly in her? What was going to happen to their whole family?

_Sister I see you  
Dancing on the stage  
Of memory  
Sister I miss you_

Percy placed his glasses back on his head and put a tentative arm around Ginny, obviously still unsure of his place in the family…despite their grief. Ron watched in horror as her lips quivered and her brown eyes began to water. She spun her body around, fiery hair flying like a wave, and buried her face into Percy's chest. She looked more like a little girl than she had in years.

Bill placed his free hand on Ron's shoulder while Charlie joined him again on the other side. Ron felt safer than he had felt since that awful snake attacked his father. He was with his family, and there was no more danger to threaten them all. Ron finally allowed himself to cry, pushing down the anger and the need for vengeance. He stood there, immersed in the silent vigil of his family until minutes…maybe hours later, Bill cleared his throat and walked over to his father.

"We need to begin arrangements for a funeral," Bill whispered gently.

"Next to Gideon and Fabian," said his mother, wiping her tears on a handkerchief Arthur had provided for her.

"I will see to it," Bill said, rising and taking Fleur's hand as he walked toward the exit of the hall.

Ron watched his mother stand up slowly, trembling as she did, and clutching his father's arm. Ron was finding it hard to move, as if leaving that small corner would prove this was real, that Fred was truly gone. Molly looked as though she was about to speak, but it took a few moments before she found her words.

"We should all try and get some rest. Minerva has offered to put your father and me in one of the staff quarters…" she started, surveying all of her children.

"Fleur and I are going to sleep in Ravenclaw Tower," said Bill. "Flitwick plans to be awake for a while to do the repairs, and he asked if I would watch over the students who are still here."

He hugged his father, followed by Fleur, and then kissed his mother on the cheek. She pulled him into a full hug, causing Ron to think that she looked afraid to let him go. Bill obliged by lingering until, at last, she pulled away.

"Charlie, Percy, Ginny, Ron…" Molly started, stopping to look at George, who had not moved from his spot at Fred's head, "…and George, why don't you lot go to the Gryffindor common room and try to rest? We'll head home tomorrow morning when we can be assured everything is safe," she said, her normally strong voice nothing more than a weak whisper. She threw a sheet over Fred, kissed him softly, and covered his face. Only then did George stand.

Ron walked slowly to his parents, and into the arms of his mother who hugged him tightly.

"My brave boy," she whispered, causing Ron to feel a wave of something indescribable rush over him. He was simultaneously comforted and sad.

Percy walked beside George, monitoring him, but giving him space as the remaining Weasleys made their way to the tower. Ron followed, listening to the plodding of his large feet along the ruins of the hallway. He could hear Ginny walking next to him, but did little to acknowledge she was there. When they reached the portrait, the Fat Lady simply smiled and swung open. Charlie mumbled a thank you.

"I'm going to the pub," he said, Disapparating, taking advantage of the lack of wards in the aftermath of the victory. No one protested, too tired, numb, relieved, stricken…too many things to admonish Charlie for drinking.

Ron didn't know what to expect upon entering the familiar confines of the common room, but to find it empty and cold wasn't on the list. The morning light was starting to peek through the stained glass, and Ron assumed those who remained were well into sleep. Percy went through all the dormitories to take inventory, and came back stating that the first through fourth years boys' dorms were empty. He then immediately followed George to the first year boy's dorm, keeping an unspoken watch on the remaining twin.

Ron knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he saw Harry and Hermione, just to be sure. After months of sharing a small sleeping quarter and depending on each other for safety, he wouldn't feel completely settled until he saw those two. Ron noticed Ginny still standing in the common room and figured she wasn't ready to sleep either, though her reasoning was most likely slightly different. Ron set about making a fire to quell the draft of the spring morning.

The radio in the common room flicked on, and Lee Jordan's voice came rolling out and filling up the room. He was recapping the events of last night. Ron let the words go in one ear and out the other, not wanting to dwell on the good or the bad any more that night. Then, Lee started listing off those that had lost their lives. Ron tried not to listen. He didn't want Fred's death to become any more real than it already was.

He silently gathered wood and carefully placed the logs on the hearth. He watched Ginny from the corner of his eye as she sat on the sofa, pulling her legs up so that her chin rested on her knees. She seemed so small, much smaller than normal. Ron flashed back yet again to their early childhood, when Ginny had been literally small, but full of vigor and curiosity. She still maintained some of that youthful spark despite the weight on all their shoulders.

_All I am begins with you  
Thoughts of hope understood  
Half of me breathes in you  
Thoughts of love remain true_

Being only a year apart, Ron and Ginny were forced to live their young lives out at the same time. Their mother even dressed them in similar clothes, much to their dismay. But seeing his sister, his first friend in his short life, looking so lost, reminded him of every bruised knee and bedtime story, of every bit of mischief and teasing. This hurt was even more visceral that her Harry-inspired heartbreak. His powerfully strong little sister was hurt, just like he was. He took a seat near her on the opposite side of the sofa. They sat in silence, watching the fire crackle wildly against the bone-dry wood.

"Remember when you left for Hogwarts?" Ginny asked, her voice piercing the silence of the nearly vacant room. Ron started at the sudden words and nodded. "Fred said he would send me a toilet seat."

Ron chuckled slightly at the memory.

"I never told anyone this, but he actually sent one," she said, smiling through her wet eyes.

"Blimey! Those buggers!" Ron said, a tearful, sad sort of happiness coursing through him. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Well, it became our inside joke. I would leave it in the weirdest places with messages, and he or George would write back. When they left Hogwarts, I sent the seat to the shop with the words 'your education' emblazoned on it and an arrow pointing at the hole."

Ron laughed, a mirthful, nostalgic laugh, and moved closer to her on the couch. She snuggled next to him like they had done when they were little and she became frightened. He was glad to have her there at that moment.

_Entwined, you and I  
Our souls speak from across the miles  
Intertwined, you and I  
Our blood flows from the same inside  
Half of me, breathes in you  
Thoughts of love remain true_

"You knew Fred slept with a stuffed duck, right?" Ron asked, and she nodded. "Well, I got my revenge for the spider incident the summer after third year. I switched it with a live duck. Mum blamed him for all the poo on his pillow!"

"That's why he chucked Duckworth!" she giggled, growing silent again as the fire crackled even more loudly.

"He didn't FUCKING deserve it!" Ginny yelled, giving into her sobs. Ron rubbed her back, trying to comfort her and hold in his own pain. He couldn't, however, and his cries soon mirrored hers. He pulled her close, seeking solace as much as giving it. Eventually, she pulled away.

"I'm such a bloody woman!" she exclaimed, wiping her eyes.

"'S okay," Ron said, unsure of how to respond. He sat there for a long time, just waiting for their sadness to subside. It would likely be inevitable that their sadness would ebb and flow as they carried on with their lives. Ron could only hope he would always be there when she needed him.

"Hermione kissed me," he said, hoping his confession might cheer her slightly. When he was younger and she was sad, he'd just pull faces until she couldn't stop laughing. But now that seemed unlikely, so he proceeded to regale her with the tale.

When he finished talking, she whispered, "About time," and fell asleep leaning against him. He summoned a blanket, laid it over them both, put his arm around her, and drifted off.

_I see you, I feel you  
When I close my eyes  
I see walking there...  
I see you dancing in my mind_

A gentle prodding at his shoulder awakened Ron. He opened his eyes to find Harry looking down at him, still dirty, cut, and bruised from battle. Ron shifted slightly and a sleepy groan emanated from Ginny. He placed his fingers on his lips and indicated to Harry that he should do something about Ginny without waking her. With surprising strength for someone of a much smaller stature who hadn't slept well in almost a year, he scooped Ginny into his arms, tilting his body so her head could rest on his shoulder. He pointed at the stairwell that wouldn't collapse on them and began walking slowly towards it.

Ron felt delicate fingers curl around his arm to help him up, and looked to see Hermione gazing down at him, concern etched on her face. She looked tired. Her hair was hastily tied up in an unimaginable way, with frizzes and strands falling out unceremoniously around her face. She was thin and pale, months of meager food, running, and fear taking its toll on her physique. But as Ron rose up and stood near her, the faint smell of grass and dirt coming from her, he felt overwhelmed by a barrage of emotions that wanted to all escape him at the same time.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him, her small form fitting perfectly against his broad and bony chest. He couldn't help but think about how close it all came to ending, how close he had been to losing her. Her screams from the night she was tortured still rang in his mind, and while he knew she had recovered, he still wasn't accustomed to how fragile and delicate their lives had become in that final month. When she sighed a tired and mildly contented sigh, Ron pulled away, leading her to where Harry and Ginny had gone to rest.

When they got to the door with the number 4 on it, they heard low and anxious voices coming from the other side. Hermione looked up at him, almost as if pleading with him to not interrupt them and just go to bed. He loved how her eyes could communicate so much without saying anything.

Ron took her hand and walked back down the steps to the doorway marked 3. He flicked his wand at the heater to activate it, radiating gentle warmth through his old dorm. Hermione readied the bedclothes of the one that used to be his, so Ron began to do the same to Neville's. However, Hermione placed her hand on his arm, lowered his wand, and crawled into the open bed. She patted the area beside her, a nervous blush creeping from beyond the dirty and blood smeared on her face. He took off his shoes and socks and climbed next to her.

Without a word she turned to him and pulled him close to her, so that his face was buried in the warmth of her neck. Ron gripped her tightly, so happy she was alive in the same moment that he felt so empty with loss. He let out a few more shaking sobs as her sniffles could be heard above his head. Among the symphony of gentle crying, he drifted into sleep in her arms.


	3. Samson

Ginny Weasley woke suddenly at the sound of running water, and was surprised to find that she was in a bed in the Gryffindor boy's dormitory. She assumed Ron had tucked her in and was just washing up (and a good idea too), so she shifted her pillow and resolved to get some sort of sleep. However, she saw a mess of black hair peeking back at her from the crack in the door and her heart stopped. She looked around and found that she was alone with Harry. Ginny lifted the covers higher up under her chin and began to panic.

If this were last spring, Ginny would have been positively chuffed that she was alone with him. She would jump at the chance to run her fingers through his raven dark hair, kiss his waiting lips, and let his hands explore her. But this wasn't a happy spring day spent by the lake, this wasn't warm moments studying in the common room, this was pain at its finest.

Harry left her and she understood why. Ginny may have a temper, but she wasn't irrational. What made Ginny hurt was that he cut off his heart to her too. He fought it and it made her feel like he would always fight it. Last summer, she felt his love for her in that kiss, and still he walked away, leaving her to bide her time until he showed up…dead or alive.

Ginny didn't expect him to take her along. She didn't expect long tomes of love and yearning written every day, and she certainly didn't expect him to come out of hiding. She just wanted to know something, anything. She stayed strong, tough, fighting for the cause for when Harry returned.

Now, after watching Fred die, Hagrid carry Harry's dead body toward her, watching her mom kill Bellatrix Lestrange, watching Harry come back from the dead, and being there for the end of it all, here he was, about to go to bed in the bunk beside her. Ginny felt lost inside of herself.

_You are my sweetest downfall  
I loved you first, I loved you first  
Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth  
I have to go, I have to go  
Your hair was long when we first met_

"Why didn't you say goodbye?" Ginny said the words, pouring from her mouth before her head could stop them. There was a deep, tense silence in the room as she heard Harry's breath quicken, her own heart pounding in her ears.

"I'm sorry I woke you," was all he said, sitting slowly on the bed beside her.

Ginny felt anger surge up inside of her. He was avoiding the question, and she was not going to be ignored any longer. She sat up abruptly in her bed and met his bright green eyes for the first time in months. This only served to fuel the pain inside of her.

"You died, Harry. You were fucking dead! I spent months worrying abut you and then without even time to be happy you were alright, I watched Hagrid carry you to us and…" Ginny was crying, a strangled and anguished cry that stole her breath and her balance. Harry stood, looking at her shamefully and reached out. But Ginny couldn't handle his touch and pulled away, leaving him to look like she had just cursed him.

The tension, sadness, and anger in the room was shattered when Kreacher apparated in between them.

"Here is your roast beef sandwich, Harry Potter, sir!" Kreacher exclaimed triumphantly, handing him the plate. Harry stood there looking shocked, but Kreacher did not budge after he took the plate. Instead, the old, wrinkled elf stood there staring expectantly at Harry, satisfaction smeared across his sagging face.

Harry took a bit, making noises of pleasure and looking pointedly down at Kreacher. Ginny wanted nothing more than to run away while she had the chance, but her stubborn pride, and the smell of cold roast beef, kept her near. She bravely took the other half off of the plate and ate it hungrily. Harry's beautiful green eyes turned to her. A small sparkle glinting in them, even amidst all of the hurt that still hung over him.

_Samson went back to bed  
Not much hair left on his head  
He ate a slice of wonder bread and went right back to bed  
And history books forgot about us and the bible didn't mention us  
And the bible didn't mention us, not even once_

When they finished eating, Kreacher took the discarded plate, and the lightness of the moment, with him. Harry took a seat on the bed across from Ginny and faced her directly.

"I had no choice," Harry whispered suddenly.

"There's always a choice. I'm not selfish. I didn't expect you to even talk to me until this was over. I was happy to wait for you and to continue to fight, but you walked to your death. You knew you were going to die and you did it without one word to me. Not one note of your voice. What if you wouldn't have came back?" she said, trying against everything to keep her voice firm as tears streamed from her eyes.

"Gin…I…I just," Harry said, looking back at her hopelessly.

Ginny was struck at how tired and worn he looked. His usually shiny and beautifully messy hair hung limply past his ears. His skin, always pale but with a pink tinge, had a dull yellow to it. His body was thin, so much so she could tell through his baggy, torn clothes. She wanted nothing more then to pull him to her, but she fought it. There was no way she would appear weak.

"I watched you, on the map, anytime I could. Sometimes all I wanted to do was come in here and find you. I often thought that maybe you and I would run away from all of this, and I could be Harry, you could be Ginny, and we could pretend this war didn't exist," he started, leaning closer in the space between their beds.

"I saw you, on my way to the forest. You were comforting this girl. I wanted to sit next to you, to let you comfort me. Don't you see, Gin? If I would have talked to you, I never would have left your side," he finished, his voice catching as he obviously tried to stifle his guilt. Ginny cursed herself for being a victim of her emotions as she let out an audible sniffle.

When Ginny looked up, Harry was on his knees in front of her, taking her hands in his. She squeezed them tightly, savoring the warmth in his fingertips. Now that she was touching him, she never wanted to let him go again.

"But it's over now. It's over," he said, tears in his eyes. "We've got all the time in the world. Let me spend it making it up to you. Let me fight for you. Let me comfort you. All I want to be now is just Harry," he said, as he moved to sit beside her.

Ginny looked at him, speechless and struck by his sincerity. She felt spoiled and selfish as he sat there apologizing for basically saving the world. But she couldn't deny her hurt, and she couldn't avoid it. He put his calloused hands on either side of her face and kissed her softly, pulling back to search her eyes for an answer. She flung her arms around his neck and pulled him against her, saying his name over and over again for fear he would disappear. He kissed her entire face and buried his nose in her neck, the stubble of his beard scratching against her skin.

"It's over. It's over," he kept whispering as she tearfully clung to him.

Ginny pulled back, running her hands along his face and studying his features. She took his glasses off and placed them on the nightstand. She looked directly into his eyes, trying to memorize every green fleck. Ginny Weasley vowed in that moment to never let him be taken from her again.

_You are my sweetest downfall  
I loved you first, I loved you first  
Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads  
But they're just old light, they're just old light  
Your hair was long when we first met_

Harry leaned in and kissed her with more urgency than she had ever been kissed before. She pressed into him, rising onto his lap and settling there as his hands roamed over her back and through her hair. She ran her tongue over his lips like she had so many times before, and he gladly complied, his tongue gently searching her mouth.

Her legs wrapped around him and her hands gripped his solid shoulders. Ginny was struck by how dissimilar this was from their former passionate interludes. Where once her time with Harry was saccharine and savored, now there was a fevered intensity dictating their every move. Before he left to defeat Voldemort, they could pretend, albeit temporarily, that they had an infinite stretch of time in which to enjoy their newfound love. But now, when everything had come to the brink of being gone forever, Ginny wanted to feel every inch, taste every free patch of skin, and cling to him like tomorrow would never come.

_Samson came to my bed  
Told me that my hair was red  
Told me I was beautiful and came into my bed_

Harry displayed a silent agreement to her train of thought as he flipped her onto her back and hovered over her, kissing her hard and letting out a low groan. She could feel his erection through their jeans, and felt her blood rush at the knowledge that she had that effect on him. When he ground his hips into her, she moaned, his hardness touching her through various layers of fabric. She wanted him inside of her so bad that her hips were thrusting up into him involuntarily. Her mind screamed she was going too quickly, but she dashed that thought aside in favor of the relief of having him near.

As he continued to rock against her, Harry ran his warm hands carefully up her tattered jumper. He pulled his lips away from her neck to meet her eyes. His messy, long black hair fell like a curtain around their faces. He smiled genuinely as he tried to brush his hair out of their way and bent to kiss her again. His hand reached her breast, and he ran it slowly over the lacy fabric. Ginny grew frustrated with his slow pace and pulled her shirt over her head. Harry leaned back and looked at her quizzically. In reply, she pulled his shirt off as well.

Her heart leapt up in her throat at the sight of his body. His ribs protruded from him, and his skin seemed to stretch over his thin form. He looked like he hadn't eaten all year. There were bruises dotting his skin, and Ginny wanted to heal every one of them despite the time it would take. There were so many wounds, both healed and new, marring his pale flesh, that tears welled up in her eyes. She ran her fingers up his arms and over his chest. He groaned at the feeling and pressed his hips against her again.

Ginny felt a surge of confidence as she heard Harry's moans, and she moved so that they were facing each other on the small bed. He kissed her softly, their bare skin pressing against each other and giving Ginny chills. She slipped a hand carefully beneath the waist of his jeans, and feeling boldness and desire rise further, she let her hand go under the elastic she found there too.

As her hand traveled through Harry's rough patch of hair, she could hear his breathing quicken and felt her own heart pounding in her ears. Her hand wrapped around his cock, her own gasp drowned out by his yell. He felt large in her small hands. He was hard and smooth at the same time. Her hand ran over his length, studying his expression as he moaned. She caught on quickly to what he liked, and found herself overcome with desire when he started whispering her name along with a slew of expletives and nonsensical babble.

"Gin…I'm…I can't…" he stuttered between heavy breaths.

"Don't hold back, Harry, you don't need to hold back," she said, kissing him passionately and pumping her hand faster in time with his spontaneous thrusts.

He came quickly, and with a strangled cry. Warm liquid spilled over her hand, and he reached for his wand to cast a cleaning spell. Harry looked up at her sheepishly. He ran his fingers through her hair, and she closed her eyes, reveling at his touch.

"You are a sight for sore eyes, Gin. I don't ever have to look at anything else ever again," he said, kissing various spots along her face. She rolled her eyes, but blushed all the same. He smiled, pushing his hair away from his face again.

"I'm sorry, love, but you aren't Bill. This just doesn't work for you," she teased, messing up his already straggly hair.

"Oi! It's not like I had a lot of time to worry about my hair!" he said, tickling the inside of her thighs. Ginny grabbed her wand from the nightstand and summoned a chair. She stood behind the chair and pointed her wand at him.

"Get up," she said, a grin across her face. He raised his hands in mock surrender, the muscles in his stomach enticing her as he rose from the bed. "Have a seat," she said, indicating to the chair in front of her.

"Whatever you say," he said, sitting with his back to her.

"My mum used to do this all the time. Let's just hope I don't take off your ear," she said. In that moment, she thought of George and a sadness coursed through her. She was genuinely happy in this moment, when she should have been in mourning for her dead brother, and for the one that may never be himself again. Harry must have sensed what she was feeling, because he reached up and caressed her arms, even as his back was turned. She began casting a simple cutting spell, and tufts of black hair fell to the floor. Soon, she had shaped his hair back to its familiar length; messy as it still was. She stood in front of him, leaning in to blow away the stray strands of hair on his neck and shoulders.

She was completely unaware of the fact that she was still shirtless until she felt his lips press against her stomach as his hands gripped her sides. She moaned when he removed her bra and flicked a tongue over her nipples hungrily. She threaded her hands in his freshly cut hair and pulled his head closer to her. When she rose, she whimpered at the cool air now breezing over her damp breasts.

Harry wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him. She breathed in the smell of his warm skin and concentrated on the gentle beating of his heart. He was alive, he was real, and he was right there with her.

"I love you, Ginny," he suddenly whispered. She was speechless for a moment and did not remove her head from his chest. But as soon as she leaned back and looked at the earnest look in his eyes, she answered back immediately.

"I love you too."

_Oh I cut his hair myself one night  
A pair of dull scissors in the yellow light  
And he told me that I'd done alright  
And kissed me 'til the mornin' light, the mornin' light  
And he kissed me 'til the mornin' light_

In the midst of more fevered kisses and exploratory touching, Ginny found herself back on the bed, Harry lying next to her, his hand running along her stomach.

"Gods, Ginny, I want to touch you," he breathed against her neck, his fingers resting on the clasp of her jeans. She responded by assisting him in unzipping and removing her remaining clothes. He promptly followed.

His hands carefully glided down her abdomen, and she stopped breathing with both apprehension and anticipation. When his fingers slid over her lips, they both groaned at the feeling. Ginny became overcome as his fingers explored her center, dipping inside of her before coming out and gliding over sensitive places. She took his hand and showed him exactly what to do.

"You feel so good…so wet," he whispered. Hearing him speak, desire dripping from his words, sent her over the edge, and soon Ginny was coming, her muscles tightening and her body shaking.

"That was…" Harry started, leaving trails of kisses along her jaw line.

"I want you, Harry. All of you. Please."

"Ginny…" he groaned.

He rose up above her, resting on his hands. She reached down to feel him, and watched as he bit his lip to hold back another moan. She guided him into her, both quivering as he entered.

Ginny felt a sharp pain rip through her, but she didn't want Harry to know, because she knew it would hurt the first time, and she didn't want him to stop. She pulled him close to her as he thrust harder, whispering nonsensically. She hid her face in his shoulder until the tears and pain subsided.

After a while, Harry's thick cock pressing in and out of her began to feel amazing, and she raised her hips to his, equaling his enthusiasm.

He took a free hand and placed it on her face, tilting her head up to look at him. He kissed her with poise, whispering, "You amaze me," as his movements lost their rhythm and became quicker.

He came with a loan, choked sort of growl, gripping her shoulder tightly and spilling into her. She pulled him on top of her, holding his sweaty form close and vowing never to let him go again.

_Oh, we couldn't bring the columns down  
Yeah we couldn't destroy a single one  
And history books forgot about us  
And the bible didn't mention us, not even once_

When their breathing had slowed, he rolled form on top of her and cast a cleaning charm on himself. He turned over to return the favor.

"Ginny!" Harry cried.

"What? Are you okay?" she said, scooting back so she could sit up. That's when she saw the smattering of blood on the white linens. Judging by Harry's terrified look, he had no idea how normal that was. Ginny did a cleaning spell and reached for his hand. He pulled away from her.

"I'm such a git! I was so caught up that I didn't realize I was hurting you," he said, clenching his fists.

Ginny stood, wrapped the sheet around herself, and kneeled in front of him.

"Look at me," she whispered. "You didn't hurt me. It's normal," she stopped there, horrified of having to have a talk about sex with her boyfriend. And not the good kind of talk.

"I know nothing," he said miserably, but there was a smirk on his face.

"I know too much," Ginny said ruefully, imagining that horrible afternoon before she started Hogwarts when her mum and dad sat her down and gave her 'the talk'.

Harry sighed and kissed her gently. "Still. I'm sorry I hurt you."

"It will be better next time, love," she said, winking.

"I love the sound of next time," he said, pulling her sheet-clad form into his lap. Those two words had much more hanging on them then the innuendo. Next time. It meant Ginny could savor her time with him. He would always come back. The fear and the doubt were over.

_You are my sweetest downfall  
I loved you first_

* * *

The train station was not nearly the organized chaos it usually was. This time, it was just chaos. As the injured and battle weary searched for loved ones or open compartments, Ginny stood with her family. They were going to take the train to London, and then apparate back to the Burrow. Her mother thought it best no one Apparate in their current condition. Ginny looked at the sunken in gouge in Ron's shoulder, standing out even through is shirt, and agreed fervently. Harry walked up and gave her a warm hug.

"I'll be at the Burrow in two days, for the…well…I'll be there. I just need to go and see Andromeda Tonks and also get Grimmauld Place set up as a suitable habitat. It seems like work, but I need to do something. Anything," he said sadly, kissing her soundly before getting onto the Knight Bus.

As the Weasleys all entered the train, Hermione was standing away from the group, pain etched on her face and tears in her eyes. Ginny was about to ask her what was wrong when Ron walked up to her. Hermione looked up at him defiantly.

"Be safe," he grumbled. He turned on his heels quickly and got on the train. Ginny looked at her quizzically, but all Hermione did was shake her head and lift her bags.

"Are you sure you'll be okay in Australia all by yourself?" Ginny asked, helping her get her luggage onto a cart.

"Of course. I need to get Mum and Dad back…and I need some time to my thoughts," she answered cryptically, looking at the window where a mess of red heads was protruding, crowded into one compartment. "I'll be back in time…well…I'll be back in two days."

Ginny gave her a hug and decided to let things go, though she was worried for her friend. Maybe Hermione just needed some time. They all needed time.

Luckily they had all the time in the world now.

_**lyrics by Regina Spektor**_


	4. Running up that hill

_AN: I'm warning you all right now, some of you will not like this chapter. But it is my sincerest hope that you understand the point I'm trying to convey. Sometimes, all we need is to be someone else, and the desperation to do that becomes all consuming._

**Chapter 3: Running up that Hill**

"Well, your genius brother has done it, George!" said Fred, gently smoothing out a piece of parchment on his writing desk. They were both working late in the small office behind their shop.

"Percy did not do it! It doesn't fit with his five-year plan. He has no time for pussy," George answered; knowing full well Percy was not what Fred was talking about.

"Har har. No. I mean I've finally made a logo! It's a shame Thomas had to go into hiding, but I think this will suffice," Fred said, looking very pleased with himself.

It was a simple purple 'W' flanked with wings of sparkling whizbangs, but it was perfect. It said all it needed to say: "We are brothers, and we are awesome."

"I've got to hand it to you, dear brother, you've got a gift," Geroge said, impressed by how professional and decorative the logo was.

"Now Georgie, don't be jealous of my talents. We always knew I was better at everything."

"Tell that to Penelope Clearwater. I gave it to that little bookworm better than she's ever had it, and that," George said, thumbing Fred on the nose, "is a direct quote!"

"You didn't!" Fred leapt up, looking shocked. 

"You know how kinky Penny is…though I doubt Percy does. She said she wanted to see if everything about us is the same. Guess not," George said, grinning. Fred just sat there looking shocked.

"Oh, you nasty little wanker," Fred whispered.

"It's okay little Freddie. Just go back to your pretty pictures."

Fred wrestled George to the ground and they rolled around in their office until they finally stopped laughing, then, they of course got back to work, counting down the day's profits. 

"But seriously, it's amazing," George said, marveling at the artistry of the logo again. Fred had obviously spent a lot of time and poured a big part of himself into that drawing. George folded a copy neatly into his jacket pocket.

"The memorial service for our dear friend and hero Fred Weasley will take place in two days, Wednesday, at 2 pm, in the Prewett family cemetery, just outside of London. The family welcomes all who…"

George woke up suddenly, as Lee's voice rang out from the wireless, snapping him back to reality. Fred was dead. His funeral was in two days. George threw the wireless against his bedroom wall at the Burrow, shattering it to pieces.

_It doesn't hurt me.  
Do you want to feel how it feels?  
Do you want to know, know that it doesn't hurt me?  
Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making?  
You, It's you and me._

As soon as the wireless hit the wall, George's door burst open and Percy stood there, wand drawn. His hair was a mess and he was unshaven, still in his housecoat. It was as if he had been standing right outside George's door all night. Percy looked around, panicked for a second, until he spotted the damaged wireless. He cast a quick 'reparo' and then looked awkwardly back at George.

George was angry. Was he on suicide watch? What was the Humungous Bighead doing outside his door? It filled him with rage to think so many would forever pity him. George could feel a tinge of self doubt, trying to fight it's way to the surface. He needed to suppress it. He rose from his bed, still in his clothes from the battle, and slipped on his black leather boots. They were his favorite shoes, despite that they were hand-me-downs from Bill. He threw on his dragon hide jacket and ran past Percy down the stairs. 

He ran through the living room and out the door off of the kitchen, ignoring the sweet smells of breakfast and the shouts of various members of his family. He could still hear Percy calling after him as he crossed the field of long grass and made it to the road. He was now outside of the wards. He took one look at Percy and Disapparated.

_And if I only could,  
I'd make a deal with God,  
And I'd get him to swap our places,  
Be running up that road,  
Be running up that hill,  
Be running up that building.  
Say, If I only could, oh..._

George found himself directly in front of the shop, and he peered intently through the window. His heart started racing as he saw Verity and Angelina fielding the roaring post-war crowd. He didn't deserve that shop. He didn't deserve that woman. He felt like half a person. Everything that was good about him would be buried on Wednesday.

George ran again, this time to Gringotts. He was acting on impulse alone at this point. He went to a goblin, not even taking the time to admire the gaping hole in the ceiling, and requested a withdrawal of 1000 Galleons from his vault. He then asked for Muggle money, and was handed a total of 2425.43 pounds. 

George made his way through the crowds of Diagon Alley who were still celebrating the defeat of the Dark Lord. He moved through the Leaky Cauldron, pointedly avoiding a dark haired girl who was shouting madly about the _Daily Prophet_. He finally found his way to the Muggle street in front of the pub, resolved to hide in the Muggle world. He couldn't bear magic without Fred. He wanted to be someone else, someone without magic, without a shop, without a dead twin. 

George wandered along the cobbled streets, past Percy's flat, and into the various small garden parks that dotted this particular residential neighborhood. He liked being invisible, in a world where no one recognized him; no one knew what had transpired. There were no shops, no girlfriend, no bloody radio shows, and no death marring these busy streets. 

At the window of a small storefront, George stopped dead in his tracks. He thought he had seen an ink drawing of the Dark Mark, but it turned out to be a simple skull next to a lit cigarette in a Muggle tattoo shop. George was struck by an idea and dug frantically through his pockets. He found Fred's drawing from a few months before. A Muggle tattoo didn't move or sparkle, it just displayed a piece of art…the perfect way to keep Fred close.

George walked in and a bell signaled his arrival. A man nearly the size of Hagrid with tattoos garnishing his bald scalp appeared behind the cash register.

" 'Elp you?"

"Yes. I need this on my shoulder blade," George said. His voice ached as the first words he'd spoke in almost 24 hours traveled out of his mouth. He slid Fred's drawing across the counter. The man barely glanced at it before going through the beaded curtain to the back.

George stood stock still, waiting. Normally, he would be endlessly entertained in a place like this. But today, he couldn't bear entertainment. The man came back and grumbled, "Thandie can do it," while gesturing for George to follow him.

A petite woman with shocking white hair was standing in a small room with drawings on display all over the walls. She wore a black tee shirt that hugged muted curves and small, perky breasts. She looked much more tame than he had expected based upon the gentleman who had greeted him. She had a few tattoos on her arms, and a diamond stud in her nose. Other than that, Thandie looked like most girls he had gone to school with. 

"Hey there! I'm Thandie. I'll be doing you today…I mean…ummm," she said, laughing nervously.

"George."

"Yes. Well, George, take off your shirt and have a seat. I'll draw an outline to see how you like it." George removed his shirt and jacket and sat down. He felt the cool ink begin to take shape against his skin. Very soon, she was finished, and turned him in the stool so he could gaze at Fred's drawing in the mirror. 

"It looks perfect," he said. "Go on."

"Is this your first tattoo?" she asked, eyeing him appraisingly. George thought he saw something like appreciation on her face. He just nodded. "It will hurt," she warned. George nodded again. "I just want to do the outline today, and when that heals, we can fill it. The process would be too painful otherwise."

"I don't care. Do it all now," he said, meeting her blue eyes for the first time. She looked frightened for a second, but went about setting the ink up.

"It's your body," she said, dipping a needle in black ink and rubbing something cold across his back.

The pulsating of the needles felt like solace, and he let the stinging and scratching pain waft through each part of him. He didn't even know how much time had elapsed when she finally ceased. Thandie hadn't said a word and seemed to be apprehensive with each new abrasion. She just stopped, rambled off instructions, and bandaged him up. She walked in front of him and handed him a card that repeated the instructions. Then, she stooped down to face him.

"What has made you look so lost? Who hurt you?" she whispered, shaking her head.

"You will never know," he answered, his face nearly touching hers.

Before he knew what he was doing, George grabbed the back of her head and kissed her hard. More surprising was her response. She kissed him back, letting her tongue invade his mouth. He pulled her down forcefully, so that she could straddle his lap and he could press his cock harder against her. The fierceness of his sudden desire to be someone else had translated to a want for this stranger, a want for escape.

Something in the back of George's mind reminded him of Angie, but he avoided it. The girl didn't know him, didn't know his pain, and couldn't pity him. He could truly be someone else, shagging a nameless and faceless Muggle was exactly what this new invisible George would do.

He ripped off her shirt and yanked her jeans down around her ankles. Her perky, tiny breasts were unencumbered by a bra, so George took a nipple into his mouth and bit lightly. She responded by wrapping her bare legs around him, somehow managing to kick her jeans off. He groaned and kissed her again, forcing his tongue over hers. 

He licked two fingers and reached down for her cunt. She let out a cry as his fingers entered her and he could feel how wet she was for a stranger. He was disgusted at what he was doing, but disgust was better than wallowing in guilt and grief. 

He pressed her tiny body against the wooden paneled wall and ground his erection against her. She gripped his shoulders and he plunged into her. She was hot and wet, but she wasn't soft and sensual like Angie. She was just a girl, and he fucked her hard like she didn't matter. After he heard her scream and felt her clench around him, he came with a growl, his hands flat against the wall.

He dressed without looking at her, left without a word, and paid at the front as quickly as he could. He set out down the street again, trying to find another way to avoid being George.

_You don't want to hurt me,  
But see how deep the bullet lies.  
Unaware, I'm tearing you asunder.  
Ooh, There is thunder in our hearts._

As the sun set over the high buildings of London, George was desperate to be anyone but himself again. He pulled his hood over his head to cover his hair, and ducked into the Leaky Cauldron for a drink, thinking maybe he would be Charlie for a while. He took an open stool at the bar and a curvy woman with blonde hair and a round face came up to him. He attempted to ignore a frantic shouting woman on the other side of him, demanding to read the paper. She probably lost someone in the war too, and went barmy.

"Where's Tom?" he asked abruptly. 

"Didn'a make it. I'm in the process of buying the pub. I'm Mary Abbot. What'll it be?"

"Ogden's. 3 shots to start," he mumbled. He paid her and downed them in quick succession, dizziness invading him.

"Take it easy, love," said Mary, concerned.

"Keep 'em coming," he grunted back.

After the warmth settled into his belly, George started to feel disconnected, and his sadness threatened to take him over in the wake of this new instability. He heard a miserable sob, and thought it was him losing control for a moment. However, he looked to his right and saw Katie sitting there, her hair lopsided and her eyes puffy.

"Oh god," he whispered, a feeling of dread flooding him. 

"Not now. Not now. I can't. I can't…" she cried, gasping for air and trying to look away. She was unable to do so, so she ran out of the pub and into the alley. On impulse, George ran after her. He grabbed her and pulled her closer to him suddenly desperate for anything that would bring him closer to Fred.

"No! He's not gone! He can't be!" she screamed, her small fists pounding against his chest. George stroked her hair and rubbed her back gently.

He knew what was coming. He knew he was about to enter dangerous territory. But at this low point in his world, he didn't care. He wanted to be anyone but himself to avoid the pain of the loss of Fred. Being Fred would be the best way to do that.

She must have been thinking the same thing, because she was suddenly kissing him, and when he felt her warm tongue on his lips, he kissed her back. He immediately cupped his hands to her breasts, remembering how much Fred had talked of them, and she moaned in delight.

Thinking quickly, he Apparated to Fred's room in their flat. She looked around with watery eyes for a second before launching at him and ripping his clothes off. He responded, pulling her clothes off one piece at a time, and latching his mouth to one of her nipples. He cast a quick Anti-pregnancy Charm and she threaded her fingers in his hair. He missed the smooth dark skin of Angelina, but he wasn't George tonight, and all Fred would want was Katie.

He pushed her back on the brown suede covers of Fred's bed and threw her legs over his shoulders. He spread her open, desperate to taste what Fred so often enjoyed. She cried out for Fred as George's tongue danced along her delicate folds. He gently sucked her clit as he put two fingers inside of her. He felt her whole body clench around him as she whimpered; defeated, desperate, and sated. 

She rose up and pushed George back on the bed, kissing every inch of his face. He could feel the love she had for Fred in every movement of her body, and he reveled in the vacation from loneliness and grief. 

"Just one last time," she whispered. "I didn't even get to say goodbye."

George nodded numbly and kissed her as she straddled his naked hips. He ran his hands lovingly along her bare skin, just as Fred would probably have done. When she lowered herself onto his hard cock, tears in her eyes, he whispered her name with love and adoration. When they came together, she screamed for Fred, and he confessed his undying love for her.

After the dance was done, she hastily put on her clothes and Apparated away. George fell asleep surrounded by reminders of Fred.

_Is there so much hate for the ones who love?  
Tell me we both matter don't we?  
You,  
It's you and me,  
It's you and me who won't be unhappy._

George woke the next morning with a searing headache and a heart full of regret. What he had done to Katie made him disgusted with himself. He felt like a weak little boy for handling his pain so poorly. What would his family think? What would Angie think? Bile gurgled in George's stomach as he fought back tears of shame. He did locking charms on his flat and exited Diagon Alley through The Leaky Cauldron for a morning cup of strong tea and time to clear his head. After his actions of the previous night, he resolved to make it up to Fred by being a man.

George walked into the small Muggle café, crowded with a morning rush of people. He walked up to the counter, ignoring men in suits that looked far less absurd than when his father dressed as a Muggle, and women chattering away. He quickly ordered some strong tea, with loads of sugar, and searched the room for an open table. He found a single spot next to a watery-eyed Muggle girl with short brown hair. 

As he walked over to his chosen table, a very rude man in a very big hurry bumped into George, casing him to spill his tea all over the worn wooden floor.

"Oi!" he managed to yell, but the man just rushed out the door.

"You can have some of mine," piped up the girl with the short brown hair and the teary eyes. She held up a full, steaming pot of tea. George gratefully accepted her offer, enjoying her curious smile, despite the red bloodshot state of her large dark eyes. George felt disarmed by her pretty face and attempted at a smile as she poured him some tea.

"Bloody Muggles," George said, before he even realized what he was doing.

There was a loud crash as the strange woman dropped her teapot.

"Sorry!" she shrieked, frantically grabbing napkins, attempting to mop up the tea and glass. Droplets of blood were dying the white paper in her excitement. George stood frozen, shocked at her reaction, until a café worker came over with a mop and shoved her to the side.

She began sobbing again, staring at her cut hands. Under George's new resolution to act like a man, he offered her his handkerchief. She looked at it and gasped through her chocked sobs.

"I swear I'm going mad," she whispered, her wide eyes looking up at him. "I thought you said Muggle a minute ago, and this hanky looks just like someone's I used to know."

The blood seemed to drain from George's face. This was the woman he saw yelling about the Prophet in The Leaky Cauldron. 

"Are you a witch?" George asked cautiously. The worst that could happen was that she was a Muggle that thought him to be mental. Her pale face got even paler.

"Are you a Weasley?" she asked, looking at his head. George looked away in shock, but nodded.

"Oh my god! Where's Percy? Where is he? He never came back! Just please, please tell me he's okay," she cried, grabbing his jacket in desperation.

It hit George like a ton of Skiving Snackboxes. He could hear it in her voice, see it in her eyes; this woman was in love with Percy. It was as if the moment George had gotten over his obsession with avoidance, fate planted him in the way of the perfect excuse to rush home, despite his behavior. This was Percy's lover, and he needed her. George was ready to deliver.

"I'll do you one better, love. I'll take you to him."

Her eyes lit up immediately, and her shoulders relaxed in relief. George took the chance to look her up and down. She was shorter than Angie, but just as curvy, with wide hips over a generous swell of breasts. She had the body of a zaftig beauty from a renaissance painting with a face of a sharp-eyed young professor. Percy had pretty good taste. George looked up at the clouds and imagined the ways he and Fred would have taken the mickey out of Perce when they next saw him. This sad and desperate woman was a gift, a way for George to move on.

George took her arm, led her behind the café, and told her to hold her breath.

They Apparated to just outside of the Burrow wards, and after a few panicked breaths and assurances from George that she was okay, they walked silently down the winding dirt road. The sun beat down warmly on the back of George's neck, and the Burrow glittered like an inviting and soothing pool of water. They walked quickly through the front door and up the stairs.

"Oh, Percy! I have a present for you," George called in a mock singing tone.

Percy came ambling out and pushed George against the wall, slamming the sore tattoo on his shoulder against the hard wood. The pain was immense, but he bit his lip at Percy's anger.

"Where the fuck have you been. I was…I can't…" he said, tears forming in his eyes. George had almost forgotten the way he had left. It broke his heart to see the hurt in Percy's eyes, but as George pointed over Percy's shoulder, he hoped all would be forgiven.

"Look what I picked up from the café."

Percy turned around abruptly, and gasped loudly. He crossed the hall in one step and scooped the young woman into his arms.

"Oh, Audrey! I'm so sorry I didn't come back. I'm so sorry," he whispered the last bit over and over, kissing her tear-filled face. Forgetting George, Percy dragged her into his childhood bedroom, and George managed a grin at the sight.

A shadow crept up the stairs and George followed the sound of clicking heels as they walked toward him. Long dark legs led up to crossed arms under a full chest. Then, George's gaze traveled up to large brown eyes. He felt relief, shame, joy, and grief upon finally setting his weary eyes on Angelina. 

_If only I could,  
Be running up that hill..._


	5. Jealous of the Moon

AN: Here's a bit of happiness at the beginning of this chappie to wash out the bitterness of the previous chapter…and the next one for that matter…and maybe most of the one after that. I'm evil…

**Chapter 4 "Jealous of the Moon"**

Audrey walked slowly through London, miserable and deflated. After two days with no word from Percy, she feared the worst, and was resolved to get her own answers. First, she had gone to Percy's flat, in the hopes there might have been evidence he was at least well. However, when she arrived at his door, she found it ajar and all of his possession broken and strewn about the floor.

Scared and worried, she had run across the street to the broken down pub he had taken her to, hoping to fetch some news of his world. She was greeted with an overwhelming sight: The pub was filled with raucous yelling, smoke, explosions, and cheers from every corner. Men and women were singing and dancing, screaming "Potter!" at the top of their lungs, and knocking about their wands, which emitted red and green sparks she had to dodge so as to not get burned. She didn't care. Fear wasn't a part of her when she didn't know if Percy was alive or dead. Audrey rushed to the counter and demanded, "_The Daily Prophet_."

"What?" shouted an old gentleman next to her with an odd purple hat balanced on his head and an ear horn placed in the ear closest to her.

"_The Daily Prophet_!" she shouted, a maniacal fear for Percy engulfing her. It was obvious that some victory had been achieved, but she saw no evidence of ginger heads anywhere. What if Percy didn't make it?

"Not for Muggles!" said a burly man to her, angrily pulling a stack of papers away from her. _How does he know what I am? _she wondered, frustrated.

Audrey huffed with rage and left the crowded building, being hit hard by a smattering of rain on the cool spring night. She ran to a nearby park and let out worried sobs before making her way home to her parents' dreary flat.

She climbed her stairs slowly, trying to ignore the heaviness in her chest as she struggled to breath. He must be dead. That was the only reason why he would not have come back to her. She got to her bedroom, shed her clothes, and got under her covers. She grabbed the red and gold scarf he had left behind and curled up with it, staring at the moon from her window, and saying goodbye to Percy in her mind.

Audrey could scarcely imagine what it was like to be magical, to summon up dozens of ways to accomplish any task. She couldn't picture being able to travel at the drop of a hat, but she longed for it in this moment. She remembered the way Percy's thin torso felt in her arms as he flew her over the London skyline, and she would have given anything at all to feel the warmth of his body against hers. The moon hung so close in the sky that she could almost touch it. She ached to fly to him, to fly anywhere but back to the lonely academic life she had lead before her chance encounter with the shy hero.

_Tryin' on a brand new dress  
But you haven't worn the old one yet  
You've come too far  
To turn around now_

Audrey's dreams were dotted with images of Percy smiling down at her, kissing her passionately, and calling out to her in fear. She awoke at sunrise, unable to force her eyes shut any longer, and walked over to her closet. She resolved to go on like Percy never happened. Audrey would go to school today and finish her dissertation. Percy would have wanted it that way.

Her heart sank lower when she looked into her closet and the only bit of clean, non-charred clothing was the black cocktail dress. She sighed; she had hoped to christen it when he got back and took her dancing again.

"Fine," she said as Lucy came up and rubbed against her legs. "I'll just have to start over in style." Lucy just looked up at her with wide green eyes and curled up in Percy's discarded scarf, falling asleep.

Audrey took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and slid the delicate fabric over her head. She added some shelled jewelry and earthy sandals to downplay the dress. A leaf printed scarf around her waist made it look more like a sundress than cocktail attire. She grabbed her books, straightened her shoulders, and walked to her favorite café.

Audrey knew it was unhealthy to spend only one night grieving for Percy, but she knew that being foolish and weepy would get her nowhere. She entered the crowded café, ordered an entire pot of tea, and opened her dissertation in front of her for editing.

_You've given up the good fight  
You're as strong as anyone  
You're back where you started from  
I see you're back where you started from_

In an instant, all of her false bravado was torn away from her. A man entered the café. He was worn and tired, wearing a dark jacket that stood out against his very pale skin, and he had ginger hair. It was the exact same shade as Percy's. She couldn't keep up the charade, no matter how brief its run, and she began to cry.

The man ordered a cup of tea and eyed the open table next to her, making a beeline for the only free spot in the room. He never made it, as a careless patron crossed into him and his cup of tea shattered. He looked more flustered than frustrated, and Audrey took pity on him.

"Oi!" he managed to yell, but the man just rushed out the door.

"You can have some of mine," Audrey blurted out, before she realized what she was doing. He seemed grateful, and accepted her offer, looking her up and down with an odd expression. She tried to hide her tears behind her best smile. She felt she succeeded as he smiled back.

"Bloody Muggles," he mumbled.

There was a loud crash as Audrey inadvertently let go of her teacup.

Her heart dropped out of her chest at the sound of the word, and all she could think about was Percy. She dropped to the floor struggling to pick up the shards of her cup. A café worker came to relieve her, and she became desperate for news, but unable to find the words, she stood there sobbing.

Relief came slowly as he offered her his handkerchief. However, this act only served to unnerve her more as she saw the beautiful 'W' embroidered on the white fabric.

"I swear I'm going mad," she whispered, looking up at him. "I thought you said Muggle a minute ago, and this hanky looks just like someone's I used to know."

"Are you a witch?" he asked her, getting even paler. The coincidence struck her as much more.

"Are you a Weasley?" she asked, not taking her eyes off of his hair. When he nodded, her head began to spin, and her desperate pleas poured out of her before she could exercise control.

"Oh my god! Where's Percy? Where is he? He never came back! Just please, please tell me he's okay," she cried, grabbing his jacket in desperation. He sat there silently for a long moment before finally answering her.

"I'll do you one better, love. I'll take you to him."

Soon, Audrey found herself on a lonely dirt road in the countryside, heading toward nothing she could see. She felt uneasy about following a perfect stranger into the middle of nowhere, and her fears didn't subside as she reached the top of a gentle hill and found a very large, rickety old house staring back at her.

Upon entering the kitchen, she instantly fell in love with the Burrow. The cool May breezes were blowing through open windows, and it led smells of scrumptious food through her nostrils. There was a hum of noise, people, and things that made her feel anything but alone and scared. When she followed the young stranger up the stairs and saw Percy walk gracefully toward them, Audrey truly felt at home.

He didn't seem to notice her as he strode quickly toward her guide, pushing him forcefully against the wall. To say he shocked her in that display of unbridled anger would have been an understatement.

"Where the fuck have you been. I was…I can't…" he said, tears forming in his eyes. Audrey was frightened. He looked broken and in so much pain, that she didn't even want to imagine what he had gone through. It was written all over his face. However, she didn't have time to ponder as the stranger's finger pointed at her.

Then, Percy's eyes fell on her and she felt a tear fall. He was alive, well, and right in front of her! His arms quickly encircled her as he pressed fevered kisses along her neck and face, whispering hurried apologies. Sorry meant nothing to Audrey in the happiness to have him back in her arms. He pulled her into the nearest room and she gladly complied, dizzy with his touch.

He sat down on the bed and hung his head slightly. "I can't believe I forgot about you. There's just been so much…" he cried, choking on his words. She wanted to rage at him for what he put her through, but she could tell something had already sent Percy through the ringer. She swallowed her hurt and placed an arm around his thin shoulders.

Audrey pulled his shaking body closer to her and breathed in deeply. He smelled like dirt, rock, and smoke, just as someone returning from war would. His normally clean and composed face was replaced with a prickly patch of stubble and smudged soot. But he was in her arms, and he was alive. As he pulled back, and watering blue eyes met hers, nothing else mattered.

"I should have died, instead of Fred," Percy whispered. Audrey gasped. His brother was dead. She removed her messenger bag from her shoulder, piling up her old life and laying down next to her new life.

"I was the one who left, who turned my back on them," he continued. "I was the one who waited until the last second to fight on the proper side. I should have fallen," he said, lying on his side and facing her, but gazing at his hands rather than her.

Audrey couldn't fight her tears, so she simply spoke through them. "But you did come back. You did fight. You're a good man," she whispered, her voice shaking with the gravity of what he was implying.

"Fred was a better man, a better brother, a better son."

Audrey had no words for him. His words were tearing her open with such force that she couldn't even begin to imagine his turmoil. All she could do was hold him tightly and hope he wouldn't slip away. After some moments of comfort, she tried again to bring Percy back from the brink.

"Now is your chance. Become the person you know you are. Stop blaming yourself. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Mourn Fred, and earn your place in your family again," Audrey finished, she was sitting up now and gesturing roughly, her fist hitting her palm. Percy turned his bright eyes up to her and the corner of his mouth twitched. She threw a pillow at his head and wiped the remaining tears from his eyes.

"You would be a terrible motivational speaker, love, but you're right. I've got to be useful again," he said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

She smiled, it was a small and bittersweet victory, but Percy was back in her arms and he would at least stay that way, despite the painful circumstance.

"Oh, darling. What has happened to your hands?" he asked suddenly, holding out her cut palms.

"I dropped a tea cup and was so beside myself that I actually attempted to pick up the pieces."

"What a metaphor," he whispered. He waved his wand over her hands and she instantly felt them cool and the stinging subside.

He leaned up and pulled her town towards him. His thin lips pressed gently against hers, and she was struck with how much she had truly missed him. Audrey was overcome very quickly by a strong desire for her bookish boyfriend. After all the fear and uncertainty had cleared, she had fallen victim to the baser elements of her love for him.

Percy must have been feeling similarly, because he flipped her on her back with surprising strength, and slipped his tongue into her mouth. Audrey was on fire from his small showing of force and quickly complied. She threaded her fingers in his messy hair, not caring that it was obviously unwashed. She just wanted to pull him as close to her as possible.

Audrey basked in his soft and reverent kisses that Percy showered on her as they lay there in his bed. She never knew she could be this happy in another's arms, but she was now convinced that here with Percy was the only place she belonged. Sounds of muffled shouting caused them both to pull away and look wearily at the ceiling. Percy paused, briefly troubled.

"Why don't we take a walk?" he asked awkwardly, not pulling his eyes away from the ceiling as the muffled shouting escalated. Audrey rose and eagerly led the way.

The chilled air and setting sun gave everything in the Burrow's vast garden a faint pink glow. Audrey breathed deeply of the fragrant air, feeling an all-consuming calm after two very long and sleepless nights.

"It does feel good to be away from the city. I admit, being raised out here guaranteed I'd never feel comfortable in London," Percy said, dipping his head. She could see the pained look and the guilt on his face at the thought of leaving his family and living in that large city.

Percy flourished his wand and conjured a blanket to lie on the tall, soft grass of the outer fields. He sat down, and Audrey leaned between his legs, her back against his bony chest. She fell asleep to the soft sounds of the wind in the grass.

Audrey woke to find her head resting against the hard ground. She heard light whispers coming from her right and slowly crept over after noticing that Percy was apparently talking to one of his brothers. This one was tall and lanky, with broad shoulders and messy hair. They looked deep in conversation. Audrey smiled to herself, proud of Percy for being brave enough to reconcile with his family, and quietly made her way up to Percy's room to sleep.

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_Starin' down the stars  
Jealous of the moon  
You wish you could fly  
Just being where you are  
There's nothin' you can do  
If you're too scared to try_

Angelina sat perched apprehensively on Fred's childhood bed, staring out at the sky, which was in the odd sort of purgatory between the sun and the moon. It had felt like an eternity, sitting in silence across the room from George. She had pulled her long legs up to her chest, feeling small as she gazed at him; broken, with his head in his hands. Angelina looked out at the rising moon, mocking her with its happy position far from the pain of this world. She had an overwhelming desire to jump on a broom and fly off into the cool breezes of the night.

Looking over at George … pale and broken … and realized that she must depend on her strength to keep them both afloat. She loved George, regardless of anything he had done. She simply loved him and her heart ached with the desire to wrap him up in her arms and try to steal away his pain. She held back for fear of overwhelming him. As much as the thought hurt her, she knew she had to confront George.

"Katie Flooed over to my house this morning," she said, barely above a whisper. She waited with bated breath for his response. She did not expect the one she got, especially remembering how Fred always reacted when he was backed into a corner.

George lifted his head and met her eyes, his bloodshot and puffy. His hands lowered into his lap, fists clenched and arms shaking. Soon, his shoulders shook as well and he whispered, "Is she alright?"

"She will be. She asked the same of you. She's riddled with guilt," Angie explained, trying to keep her tears at bay.

"She is? She has nothing to be ashamed of! I took advantage of her vulnerability to satisfy my own sick needs!" he exclaimed, though his voice was weak with a choking shiver. He rose, and began pacing frantically around his room.

"What needs were those, George?" she said, too frightened to really want to know the answer, but asking anyway.

He looked at her, his bright blue eyes looking vacant and lost, and fell to his knees on the floor. Angelina cringed as she heard his bones meet the wooden slats of the floor. She slowly sat down beside him as he began to sob openly.

_Drag your pretty head around  
Swearin' you're gonna drown  
With a beautiful sigh  
And a river of lies_

He turned away from her and ran his hands anxiously through his hair. "Just leave me be, Angie. Just give up."

"No!" she said, gripping his arm tightly. She felt like he was slowly chipping away at her soul, but she needed him to need her, or else he really was lost. "What do you need?"

He pulled his thin arm away from her, clenching his fists so tightly that she could see his veins pulsating over the defined muscles. She resisted the urge to reach out to him. Instead, she walked back to the window to give him some space. She watched his sunken head dip back into his hands as he groaned from obvious pain and grief.

Why don't you call me, I could save you  
Together we'll find a God we can pray to  
That'll take you by the hand

Angelina couldn't take it anymore. She gave way to her own sobs, gripping the sides of the bed to keep herself from falling to pieces on the ground. She couldn't pick herself up now; she didn't have it in her. One of her best friends had just died, and the man she loved seemed desperate to forget it…and forget her. She had not expected to feel his long fingers gliding up her back, so it broke her immediately out of her own personal grief. She looked up at him, drowning in his sad and stormy eyes. She could never abandon him, not even now.

"I'm sorry, Angie. I'm so sorry," he said, pulling her against his chest and running his hand slowly down her hair. Her shaking seemed to subside at his simple and soothing gesture.

"George, please help me understand. You know I will. I know you. You're my heart," she pleaded, nuzzling her nose in his neck.

"I just couldn't stand being me. I couldn't stand feeling that emptiness, that loneliness. I needed to be someone else, someone who didn't feel like half a man, someone who didn't know his life was taken away a few days ago. I didn't want to feel lost. The best way was to become a Muggle…I…she was all over me and I…she was a stranger," he choked out, holding tightly as if afraid she would pull away. Her body went limp, weak with failure.

There was more, she thought to herself. She could no longer avoid the nagging feeling deep inside of her that her love wasn't enough, and it would never be enough. George looked at her in his old way, like he knew what she was thinking, and his face grew even paler.

"You don't have to ever forgive me for what I did. Hell, you shouldn't and I don't think I could let you," he said, his fists clenched, his eyes meeting hers. She felt like a small and quivering mass under his intense gaze.

"You're my best friend, George, and I love you. What you've done hurts me more than you can even imagine. To think that I'm not going to be enough when you need me the most…" George spoke to protest, but Angelina put her hand up to still him. "We'll get through this," she whispered. "We have to." A single tear fell from his face as he leaned in a little closer to her, a good sign, but one that still ate away at her resolve.

"I don't even know if I should try making this up to you. I don't know if I have it in me to fight for anything, even something as important to me as you are," he said. His face became more stoic, as if he had resigned to be a victim of his own pain. She may fear she wasn't enough, but she knew that he needed her right now.

"You will have a long time after all of the dust settles to make it up to me. And I demand you do so. You are such a big chunk of my soul, that if you rip away now, I might never breathe again. You've hurt me more than anyone has ever hurt me…but you're still my George. We will make it. There are no other options," she said, desperation causing her words to come out in a whisper.

He reached for her and stroked the side of her face, his eyes glassy again. Despite his very sad state, she could see the glimmer finally come back to his eyes, be it only a small fraction of what really made him George. Even if she had to stand by him every second of every day, Angelina vowed to restore the spark inside him as much as she could. They had leaned in so far during this small reconciling moment, that now Angelina's forehead was resting comfortable against George's.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he gasped and jumped back, his face scrunched up in pain.

"What did you do? Are you hurt?" she asked, anxious and worried about what other surprise she may find.

He removed his dirty shirt and turned his back on her, cringing at the movement. Angelina couldn't hold back a gasp as she saw the beautiful shape, though it was crusted with blood and swollen as if infected.

"If it weren't dripping with ooze, it would be beautiful," she quipped.

"The ooze adds character," he mumbled. Angelina's heart soared at his clever wit, showing that George was in there somewhere.

She summoned some Muggle disinfectant from her bag…something her father always made her carry just in case. She cast a few cleaning charms and then quickly ran her fingers over his wound. He let out a couple of yelps of pain.

"Can't you just heal it?"

"Sorry, love. If you want the picture to stay, we need to let it scar a little."

_I hate to see a friend of mine  
Laughing out loud  
When she's crying inside  
But you've got your pride_

The light moment was quickly brought back to reality as the radio whirred on and Lee's nightly show started again.

"Witches and Wizards, we have a treat for you tonight! Stubby Boardman has composed an instrumental ballad on his guitar in honor of all of the heroes that gave their lives. So while we think on those not with us any longer, please enjoy his humble contribution." Lee's voice carried through the dark room.

As the wonderful strums of the guitar traveled through them, Angelina was moved by how much this really hurt, and how long it would take to heal. The simple song had opened up her pain fresh, and each low strum, each hum of wire through the wooden edge of the guitar was a new wound she and George would have to repair. He turned to her and took her hand, pressing it against the side of his face and kissing her palm in sadness.

She leaned her forehead against his as he gripped her hand tightly, the music slowly beginning to fade into sad little notes. "We will get through this. I won't let you do it alone," she said through the clenched teeth of her own sadness.

He simply nodded and kissed her palm again.


	6. Teleport A and B

**Teleport A & B**

_**AN: Okay, enough heartbreak! Let's find the light again, if only for a little while! Kim and Tom Bombadil are wonderful betas! Lyrics provided by The Spill Canvas.**_

Restoring her parent's memories and lives had gone much more quickly than Hermione had anticipated. She had made her way to her family's home in the suburbs of London and took down all of the security charms. She called their accountant and re-activated both their personal and business accounts. She also opened their practice and made a note to have her parents summon up all of their old employees.

The international Portkey process was also quick and easy. Hermione had only had to take three to get to Melbourne, and due to an expedited Ministry request thanks to Kingsley, she found Wendell and Monica Wilkins in no time.

The rest of her journey was not nearly so simple. After pretending to be an Australian census taker, Hermione managed to make her way into their living room. A few charms later, her parents found themselves sitting wide-eyed while Hermione confessed what she had done for the sake of their safety.

At the end of Hermione's tale, her mother rose silently and began packing. "We are glad you are safe, but forgive us if we can't quite digest this yet," her father said, following his wife to pack.

Trying to avoid heartache and worry about her parents' reactions, Hermione called the airline to find the first plane back to London. The news was not welcome.

"Are you positive you don't have anything going out tonight?" she questioned hopelessly, frustrated at the woman on the other end despite the obvious fact that it wasn't her fault.

"I'm sorry. The earliest flight we have out is at five o'clock in the morning," the woman reiterated calmly.

Hermione reluctantly reserved three seats on the flight, feeling dread wash over her. She would have to face this entire evening with her obviously and understandably angry parents and then rush to Fred's memorial immediately upon their arrival back in England. She sat on the fluffy white settee in the expansive living room of Wendell and Monica's beachfront home. Hermione leaned into the soft fabric and heaved a sigh.

She still hadn't had a good meal or a decent night's rest in months. Her body ached with latent wounds from battle, and her chest was heavy with worry and questions. This would be her first night away from Ron in months, and as she sat in the dark living room agonizing about her parents, she longed to have his arms around her shoulders and the comfort that they brought. She didn't realize she was crying until her mother handed her a tissue. She wiped her eyes hastily as her mother looked at her with an unreadable expression.

"When was the last time you had a good night's sleep?" she asked, looking her up and down appraisingly. "Or a decent meal for that matter?"

"I can't even remember," Hermione answered miserably.

Her mother sat beside her, though far enough to appear distant. "I would have done the same things, sweetheart. I just…I can't believe you couldn't trust us," Her mother said, barely above a whisper.

"It wasn't that…"Hermione started, but her mother raised a delicate hand to silence her.

"You risked your life. You faced more danger than your father and I can even fathom. But depriving me of worrying over you, of loving you while you did this impossible thing is just…cruel," Her mother started sobbing. "To think that you were out there, facing so much, and I couldn't even keep you in my thoughts…it's just horrifying."

"I had no choice," Hermione whispered in defeat at her mother's anguish.

"There's always a choice," her mother said, rising and kissing her forehead, which only served to make Hermione feel worse.

"Jiles, I'm going to fix up some toasted cheese sandwiches. Are you hungry?" She called down the hall.

"Yes love, I can feel my appetite returning," he replied darkly, sauntering into the room.

They ate their meal in silence, not looking up from their plates. Hermione ate with such gusto, she thought for sure she had inhaled the sandwich and chips without even chewing. With her stomach satisfied, the leaden feeling in her chest became more pronounced, and her emotions threatened to get the best of her, without hunger as a distraction. Again, she ached for the comfort of Ron's voice, but she quickly pushed that ache away.

"I've made up the guest bed, Hermione. I'll wake you at 4 to leave for the airport," her father spoke softly, but with an edge to his voice. Hermione was angry with herself for feeling relief at being able to leave the tense situation.

_Alright, that's it, I've had enough, I'm on my way to you_

It's nauseating and I'm sick of waiting

For all these pointless calls to go through

Hermione grabbed her beaded purple bag and walked quickly down the hall, easily locating the room garnished in breezy white linen. She gathered up her things and walked into the small, attached bathroom, and ran a hot bath. She had managed a quick shower before she left for Australia, but she felt she needed a soak in steaming water to relax her weary body a little. Hermione carefully folded a towel and hung it over the rack. She placed a clean set of pajamas on a shelf, and slowly eased herself into the bearably hot water. A tap at the window caused her to grab her wand from her pile of clothes and gaze above her anxiously.

"Hermes?" she whispered in shock.

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To say Ron Weasley was angry didn't even begin to cover it. He was mad, yes, but as he made his way to the front door of The Burrow, he also felt grief, worry, sadness and somewhere far inside of him…love. He could scarcely stand all of the emotions bubbling in him, and before anyone could even speak, he grabbed his broom and went for a long fly.

Ron felt a little more centered as he allowed his cleansweep to dip and spin lazily. The cool night air whipped his long hair around and calmed him slightly. He let his anger flow through the force of his broom, diving into feints and back up quickly, dodging trees at alarming speeds. His clenched muscles and adrenaline served to remove some of the toxicity that threatened to overtake him. By the time he landed, breathless and caked with sweat, it was late and all the lights were out in the house. He did a quick cleansing charm and fell asleep almost instantly.

When the morning sun hit Ron's face, he woke abruptly, a reflex of the time he spent in the woods. Ron felt his entire being sink when he realized there was no Hermione, no Harry, and nothing of use for him to do. Ron miserably swung his legs over his bed and went downstairs. He still wore his clothes from the previous night, a force of habit from sleeping in his clothes for so long.

Ron had every intention of going outside for another fly, but the smell of bacon, eggs, and toast beckoned him to the kitchen table, where he ate his weight in breakfast. His mother looked pleased, though Ron couldn't dwell on her face for too long. She just looked too sad, too pained. He wasn't ready to face it yet.

"I'm going out, mum," Ron mumbled, lacing up his boots.

"Oh. Yes. Alright dear," she said, looking dazed. Ron was surprised she didn't question him, but when he saw her far off look, he just kissed her cheek and walked toward the broom shed.

He took off toward London, surprised at his lack of purpose. He fought the urge to go to Grimmauld Place, not wanting to bother Harry. Ron paused on a hilltop and silently contemplated where Australia was and how long it would take him to fly there. A few minutes…or was it hours…drifted past him as he thought intermittently of Hermione and Fred. They both tore at his heart in different ways. Resigned to the hopelessness of that train of thought, Ron sadly went back to The Burrow as the sun began to go down. He was shocked that he had killed another entire day wallowing in nothingness.

Ron landed in the high grass of his garden, intent to find some way to escape his thoughts. In the ever-increasing darkness of the evening, Ron didn't see the lump of bodies in front of him until it was too late.

"For the love of Merlin, I think you've crushed my ankle!" He heard Percy's voice in the darkness. Upon casting 'lumos', he saw Percy intertwined with some girl who appeared to be sleeping through the ruckus. Ron had another question on his lips, but Percy raised his hand indicating they should talk over near the tree so as to obviously not disturb the mystery woman. Ron was not looking forward to a conversation with the pompous git, but his curiosity got the best of him.

Percy had a light in his eyes that Ron had never seen before as he began to speak softly.

"That's Audrey. We've been courting for a short while, but I foresee this becoming really serious!" He said, like it was valuable information. Ron rolled his eyes. He didn't have the patience right now for Percy's pompous prattling.

"What did you want to talk about?" Ron asked sharply. Percy looked wounded at his tone, and Ron couldn't help but feel guilty.

"Well…I…I just wanted to make sure if it was okay with you if I moved back here for a while," He asked anxiously.

"Why the hell are you asking me? That's for mom and dad to decide," he said, uncomfortable in having to make that decision.

"I want to know that everyone is okay with me coming back. I haven't been exactly the model brother as of late."

Ron snorted at the understatement. "What's wrong with your flat?" He said, still not really understanding Percy's angle.

"Well, it was pretty badly ransacked, and Audrey is staying with her parents due to the fire at her place. I just don't want to impose on them anymore."

Now Ron was curious. What fire? He lived with her parents? Why was his flat ransacked? Percy saw Ron's confusion and worry and responded quickly.

"It's a long story. Suffice it to say Death Eaters burned down her building, and I sort of broke many laws to get her, her cat, and her dissertation out," he said off-handedly, a characteristic Weasley blush creeping over his face.

Ron stood there, unsure of what to make of the vision of Percy pulling someone from a fire. Finally, Ron settled on a chuckle.

"I see it takes a fire for you to defy standard Ministry regulations, huh?"

Percy laughed back good-naturedly. "Yes, well, it had to happen sometime though, to be honest. I was just going through the motions to not draw too much attention. That place was like death," Percy whispered, shuddering. Ron couldn't help but agree.

"Well, that's the truth. So why did someone tear up your flat?" Ron asked, surprised at how real is concern was.

"Well, I suspect they were looking for answers after you were caught at the Malfoys'," Percy quipped nonchalantly.

"Oh," Ron said, suddenly aware of how much his activities had affected people he hadn't even spoken to in years.

"Ron? If you don't mind me asking, what was with that strange goodbye with Miss Granger at the station? Why didn't you go with her to Australia?" he asked, not meeting Ron's eyes.

"It's complicated," Ron mumbled, an influx of emotions swirling through him.

"Ahhh yes, well…" Percy started, following Audrey with his eyes as she tried to sneak back to the house unnoticed. "If you feel like un-complicating it," Percy started, then whistled a quiet and complicated sound. Hermes flew at them and landed on Percy's outstretched arm. "Hermes is yours for the evening. Miss Granger might need a little help getting out of the fire," he whispered, handing Ron the owl and walking toward the house.

"Percy?" Ron said suddenly. He turned to look at him. "Welcome back."

Percy just nodded and continued walking.

Ron sat in the wet grass, stroking the graceful owl's feathers absent-mindedly. He tried to imagine his life without Hermione, and it didn't exist. There was no question he loved her. He needed her. He decided then to write her a letter, just to begin mending what had broken between them at the station.

_But no, I'm not a skeptic anymore_

At last I see what all of this ridiculous hard work is for

The moisture in the air is begging for release

And the memory of your stare is raining down on me

Hermione remembered her modesty as she realized she was standing at the window above the small bathtub, eager to remove the letter from Hermes' leg. She stood there staring at him quizzically, in shock. _"How could an owl make it all the way to Australia in one night?"_ she thought. She decided to research this question when she got back to England. She blushed at the owl, hoping he wasn't aware enough to realize that she lacked her…feathers. With a racing heart, she grabbed her wand, summoned some treats from her bag for Hermes', cast an 'impervious' on the letter, and settled back into the tub to read.

Her trembling hands couldn't unfold the parchment quickly enough, but finally, Ron's haphazard handwriting was splayed out before her.

_Hermione-_

_You know me well enough by now to know I'm bollocks with words. You also know me well enough by now to know I have a bit of a temper._

"A bit?" Hermione scoffed out loud, disrupting Hermes from his post-journey meal and causing him to hoot impatiently.

_So here goes…_

_I'm sorry. _

I shouldn't have been so angry that you wanted to get away from me, that you wanted to fetch your parents. I was selfish. I guess I just wanted you all to myself.

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. _"Wanted to get away from me?" _ He still didn't get it, but at least he was trying.

_So yeah. I'm a jerk. I hope you'll want to hang out when you get back. _

_I already miss you._

_Love, _

Ron

It was short and to the point, just like Ron was, himself. She held it to her bubble-covered chest anyway and breathed deeply. She hadn't realized how alone she would feel on this Australian expedition, or how hard it would be. Just knowing he was thinking of her, that she still mattered, was enough to sustain her through the pending flight and her parents' hurtful glances.

Hermione closed her eyes and imagined Ron, leaning over his small desk, his broad shoulders and red head bent forward in concentration. Maybe he was already in his nightclothes, though it was probably in the early hours of the morning there. The thought spurned visions of Ron sleeping, a vision she was very used to, and one that comforted her endlessly. She could picture his shaggy hair spread across his pillow and his mouth slightly parted.

Hermione let out an involuntary moan that made her jump. With a wave of her wand, she summoned a self-inking quill. Another flourish dimmed the lights slightly in the stark white bathroom, making it glow more yellow. She wrote a response hurriedly, so that Hermes could get it back to him quickly. Before she could even reflect on what she was doing, Hermes was already flying toward London.

She pictured Ron lying in his hideous orange bed, his naked chest rising and falling. She longed to lie next to him and trace her fingers along the flat planes of his body. She licked her lips as she wondered what it would be like to kiss his pale, freckled skin.

_Hypothetically if you were point A_

And theoretically if I was point B,

We would be, we would be frantically melting

Into one massive point

That could overcome anything

At this thought, Hermione ran her hand over her own chest, cupping her breasts and imagining his large hands in place of her small ones. If Hermione were braver, and surer of his feelings, she would walk right into his room and kiss him from his lips to his navel. Thinking of what that would do to him, Hermione now felt her center pulsating. Feeling brave and comfortable in the warm bath, she let her fingers wander between her legs and began to stroke lightly, longing for Ron's calloused hands to touch her that way. She could almost hear his heavy breathing in her ear; feel his lips on her neck. She longed to hear the words that have been swirling in her head for years now.

"I love you, Hermione," his whisper wafted in her mind. "More than anything…just please come back."

The words sounded so real that they sent her over the edge. She plunged two fingers into her folds, needing to feel something inside of her. Her entire body clenched as she whispered his name.

"I love you too, Ron. More than you know."

She woke the next morning, well rested and content. She knew that she had to attend Fred's funeral when she got home, but her anticipation of seeing Ron kept her tears at bay as she rode quietly to the airport in Melbourne.

She envisioned his eyes as she avoided her parents' hushed whispers and glances on the long plane ride. And as she followed her parents back into her home in London, she could feel his arms around her, offering her comfort.

Finally, it was time for Hermione to head back to the Burrow. She quietly grabbed her things and moved toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Her father's voice came from behind her.

"I have to get to the Weasley's," Hermione said quietly, not wanting to raise him back to anger.

"Couldn't you stay around a little longer so we could talk about this?" His deep brown eyes were melting her in earnest. Before she could answer, her mother walked into the foyer.

"We have so much to cover and you're just going to leave again?" Her mother said, her voice rising angrily.

"I have a funeral to attend. In fact, I will be attending a lot of funerals because a lot of people I loved and cared about are gone, and I need to pay my respects," She said, her voice quivering as she tried to maintain her strength. She didn't last long, and soon she was overcome with sobs.

She heard her mother kneel down next to her and felt her long, thin arms encircle her. Hermione cried for a moment into her mother until she could find her voice again.

"I'm still very unhappy with you, and we have a lot to discuss. But I'm sorry you had to go through this," her mother cooed, stroking her hair. Her father stood silently, his hand on her shoulder.

"So many…" Hermione whispered, shaking and meeting her mother's eyes. Her mother suddenly looked fearful.

"Ronald?" she whispered, her hand over her mouth.

"No, he is fine. He made it," she sighed and her mother relaxed noticeably. Hermione was shocked that his death would worry her more than anything else, but she had no time to wonder about it.

"You go on ahead, but please come back tomorrow," she said, kissing Hermione's forehead. She nodded, hugged her father, and apparated to the Burrow -- to Ron.

Ron knew he should be trying to sleep. He knew it would take Hermes all night to get to Australia. He knew it would be at least 12 hours before Hermione would ever hold his letter in her hand, and he had only sent it a few hours before. Ron knew all of these things, and yet he waited nervously for Hermes to come back.

Throughout the rest of the night, Ron had made three sandwiches, paced his room several…dozen… times, played two games of chess with himself, and organized his chocolate frog cards. Now he just waited for either sleep or a letter to arrive soon.

It all seemed so small, so trivial now; his room, those cards, the silly things he used to value. It was meaningless next to what he had seen, who he had fought, what was lost. It was meaningless next to her. Almost everything was meaningless to him when compared with Hermione Granger in his mind. At last, he drifted off to sleep wondering what it would be like to lose his fingers in her mess of hair.

_Constantly you're working through the mileage in my head_

Oh, I'm calculating, yes I'm sick of waiting

How many hours until I reach your bed?

Ron leapt out of his bed, wand drawn, at the persistent tapping on his window. His heart didn't slow when he realized it was Hermes, carrying a return letter from Hermione.

"Well why didn't you just say so, ruddy bird?" Ron laughed, letting the owl fly into the house. The bird just looked at him ruefully before flying out of the room, dropping the letter into Ron's lap as he exited.

Ron opened it fast; anxious to see the small neat letters indicating Hermione's reply.

_Ron_,

_I was happy to get a letter from you. I've been lonely here, and things haven't gone too smoothly. I shouldn't have done this alone. I feel like I'm falling apart…_

_…At least, I did feel that way. But knowing you aren't angry with me most definitely helps._

Ron felt a pang of shame, thinking of contributing to her bad time.

_Apology accepted. I'm sorry too, but I'll say more when I see you tomorrow._

_Love, _

_Hermione_

_P.S. Sorry for the water stains. You caught me in the bath!_

The last sentence sent shockwaves through Ron's body. He noted the faded marks on the parchment where small droplets of water must have dried, and he couldn't help but press his nose to the lovely piece of paper. It was probably just his imagination, but Ron thought he could smell her familiar scent in the folds of her letter.

He read over the letter one more time, and his light spirit fell slightly. She was having a hard time. A moment she had been looking forward to throughout their trials was, ironically, causing her pain instead of bringing her joy. He found that he wanted to hold her as she had held him the night they lost Fred.

Ron found that he could scarcely wait for the next day when he would be able to see her again. For some reason the thought disturbed him rather than bringing him comfort. After all, he had to bury a beloved brother the next day. But he had an overwhelming need to drown it all in her, and let her do the same. Luckily for him, the morning light was creeping through his orange curtains. Tomorrow had already arrived, and 'Tragedy' didn't seem so tragic when Hermione was around. Instead, everything held a little more hope, and the thought of Hermione's return made him want to feel hopeful again.

Deciding to keep his mind off of the pain and finality of burying Fred, Ron tried to make himself useful. Bill was already in the garden, sullenly commanding chairs to line up in front of a shrine that was slowly coming together. Seeing what his brother was up to, Ron quickly decided to join in the effort.

Bill knew what Ron wanted without a word, so he soon enlisted his assistance in putting up the canopy that would provide cover for the guests in case of bad weather. Clouds were blooming ominously in the western sky.

Next, he de-gnomed the garden, ran a cutting spell over the grass, cleaned out the chicken coop, and even helped his mother lay out snacks. When the afternoon came around, Ron was immensely grateful for the effective distraction. As the time for the funeral came nearer, Ron rushed up the stairs, grabbed the dress robes that Fred and George had bought for him years earlier, and let out a saddened sigh. How was the world supposed to ever know laughter again without their shining influence?

On his way to the washroom down the hall, he paused to run his fingers over Hermione's letter, and then made his way toward the shower.

Considering his activities of the day, Ron turned the shower on so the water would be exceptionally hot. He cringed as it flowed down his back, trying to force down the scalding pain and enjoy the heat for what it was. Soon, the water soothed his aching muscles and relaxed him slightly, causing his mind to wander.

He thought of Hermione, sitting in a warm bath and trying to wash the world away, the same as he was in the shower. As he ran a soapy washcloth over his body, he pictured Hermione doing the same, except in his mind's eye she was immersed in glittering bubbles. Merlin, if she only knew the image he was conjuring of her in his head…well, she would probably slap him. But he was happy with his visions, so he continued vividly picturing her in a warm bath.

Suddenly, his mind shifted to an image of Hermione, running her hands over her body, and he could have sworn he heard her moan. Ron closed his eyes and imagined what she would feel like, what his pale hands would look like along her tanned skin. His cock was hard in seconds, but he wasn't surprised. Hermione had been doing that to him for years.

Ron braced himself, clenching a hand on the top wall of the small squared shower. He felt a wave of shame for wanking on the day of his brother's funeral, but he couldn't let it go. He had an overpowering desire to feel her, to hold her, to touch every part of her, and he couldn't suppress that ever-present desire. Ron worried that even this would bring him no relief.

His hand pumped up and down slowly as the water dripped off of him. As visions of Hermione writhing underneath him played in his head, his hips jerked and his breathing got heavy, punctuated by moans. It was like she was near him in some way; he could almost hear her breathing in time with his. As he often did, he whispered the words he wanted so badly for her to hear, but always feared saying.

"I love you, Hermione, more than anything…just please come back."

This time, his mind went further, and her melodic voice answered him. "I love you too, Ron. More than you know."

_My faith in you could move these mountains I am driving through_

It's times like these when I wish I could teleport to you

'cause then we wouldn't have an issue

We're cleverly, strategically

Challenging our fright and insecurities,

And never seem to want to leave

Ron's erection pulsated in his hand, and his movements became feverish as he imagined what it would be like with her loving him back. At last his legs shuddered and he came forcefully, spilling into his own hand. Moments later he watched it wash away in the shower. He let his shaking subside before he reluctantly stepped out of the shower and back into the real world.

An hour later, he was cleaned, pressed, and standing beside Charlie. Guests were pouring in to pay their respects to Fred, and Ron held his breath, waiting for the tears to invade him again. This all felt too real, and the reality tore at him.

As a light rain began to fall, Ron was gripped with a stronger sense of foreboding. It couldn't be raining on Fred's day. It couldn't. Fred wasn't rain. He was light, and fire, and everything exciting about a new day. This revelation became Ron's undoing, as his façade cracked and his tears began to mingle with the wetness that was already floating down his cheek.

The rain stopped splattering against his head, and Ron looked up to see a large black umbrella suspended of it's own volition. A small hand found it's place inside of his larger one, and he looked over to see her glistening brown eyes staring up at him.

Suddenly everything changed, and Ron realized he could now face the rain. In fact, he realized he could face anything at all.


	7. The Light and Glass

**Chapter 7: "The Light and the Glass"**

_**AN: You know that we have to go through the funeral. But in order to do that, the characters can heal. Lyrics provided by Coheed and Cambria. Tom and Kim make this story tolerable.**_

A distinct _pop_ broke Katie Bell out of a fitful sleep. She woke quickly, brandishing her wand in fear, only to be faced with Fred Weasley.

"Fred! What the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be in hiding…" she whispered frantically, her breathy voice echoed against the wall of her small flat.

Fred silenced her with a deep kiss, cupping the sides of her face with his hands and sliding his tongue over her lips to deepen the kiss. She became caught up in his embrace quickly, melting her body against his and letting out a hungry moan. The sound seemed to break Fred out of his distraction and he leaned back to meet her eyes.

"I don't have very long, this just, well George and I were talking…"

"For the last time, Fred! My breasts are real!" she said, smirking. She was being sarcastic, but she wanted to lighten the very serious look on his face. It worked. He laughed loudly, pulling her close to him. He pulled back and looked seriously in her eyes again. It took her breath away.

"Katie, we…I may not make it out of this war," he said quietly, running a finger down the side of her face.

"Don't say that!" she whispered frantically, fear gripping her chest tightly.

"It's the truth. A fight is coming, and I'll be a part of it."

"So will I…"

"Of course. You're my Gryffindor girl." He smiled slightly, kissing her forehead. "That's why I wanted to tell you something."

"Well out with it!" she laughed, shocked by his bashful tone. She never knew him to be shy, and it was kind of cute.

"I'm in love with you," he declared bravely, immediately searching her face for answers.

All of the breath seemed to leave Katie's lungs. These were the last words she had expected to hear from Fred Weasley. She had thought she would have to wait for him forever. Her heart soared to know how much he cared, but in the same moment, it crashed again.

"Are you saying this out of fear? I don't want you to say it just because of the circumstances of our lives right now," she said, looking down at her lap.

His long fingers pulled her chin up to meet his light blue eyes. "I knew you would say that. But I'm prepared. Don't worry, I'll prove it to you," he said, kissing her again and Disapparating into darkness.

Katie tried hard to fight waking for real, but it was an exercise in futility. She had fallen asleep on her sofa after a terribly trying morning visit to Angelina's. Katie wanted so badly to go back to her dream, her memory, and tell him she loved him too, but the dulcet tones of Stubby Boardman's tribute rang in her ears. The sounds reminded her that he was gone and she couldn't do anything to change it.

Katie sighed and leaned her head back against the pillow, trying to find a way to get through her pain. She picked apart her brain, searching for a memory, and a hint of how Fred would have wanted her deal with this. Suddenly, Lee's voice invaded her sitting room and she quietly listened to his opening, feeling solace in the voice of an old friend.

When the careful hum of Stubby Boardman's guitar began to move Katie yet again to tears, she knew the best way to say goodbye to Fred. She walked with hope to her writing desk, her quill wiggled excitedly at her approach.

_Slowly the pen touches paper_

_In the guidance of the words that you write.  
Memories roll in; of the things you once did  
And who you had shared them with_

_Is somebody thinking of you._

Katie Bell blew on the parchment with pride, drying the sleek black ink on the first draft of her finished product. She pulled out Manic Mike's Mechanical Mic, a gift from Fred, and read the tag again.

For when you're brave enough to finally share your gift with the world.

It was a microphone that recorded your voice for playback. It still had the pink ribbon Fred had attached.

She pressed the card to her lips, straightened her back, and began to sing the lyrics written to the tune of Boardman's tribute.

_With clenched fists,_

_And bright eyes,_

_He fought_

_._

_With brave minds,_

_And steady hearts,_

_We won._

_With selfless sacrifice,_

_He faded to naught,_

_And with instant valor,_

_He's gone._

_"Don't cry," he whispers,_

_"Don't cry," he pleads._

_"I'm not worth it, I can't stand it,_

_Don't cry for me."_

_We all are weary,_

_All walking toward fate._

_Someday it will end,_

_All this suffering of late._

_The pain is my prison,_

_His love his my chain._

_Every night I dream,_

_Of his return in vain._

_"Don't cry," he whispers,_

_"Don't cry," he pleads._

_"I'm not worth it, I can't stand it,_

_Don't cry for me."_

_I cry, I can't help it._

_His name on my lips,_

_I cry for the cold absence,_

_I cry for his kiss._

_He's alive in everything I see,_

_He's contained in everything I touch,_

_I can't stop the invasion of his memory,_

_I hurts me too much._

_We cry_

_We all cry_

_We're all crying_

_Trying not to say goodbye._

Katie listened to the playback accomplishment and a heavy heart. At the end, she grabbed the mic and stuffed it in her purse. Now all she needed was Lee Jordan, and she quickly Apparated to his studio.

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

_Did I bother telling you this, with the words that cross teeth and jump lips?  
A poor choice of words, in wanting to tell you anything.  
But words don't come with ease. They're forever my hurt._

Lee Jordan was still in disbelief as he carefully flicked the switches to end his latest radio show. The fact that Stubby Boardman had chosen his show astounded Lee. He was even more astounded that good old Stubby had thanked him! The excitement and honor had stifled his mood for at least a short while.

But his mood quickly deflated when he was sorting through his paperwork and found the business plan he had been working on for Fred. The twins had wanted to open up a store in Hogsmeade, and needed Lee's skills in number crunching to help them figure out the capital they would need. Lee's chest tightened at the possibility it would never happen.

Lee looked up at a framed picture of Fred and George at their shop's grand opening and clenched his jaw. "Damn all of this darkness," he said to himself, and for the next hour he finished up the business plan. He knew George would bounce back, and Lee intended to be ready as soon as that happened.

_Would it really matter, if you were to count the days left with your hands?  
Your focus secure and the loves you left; well  
smiles staged in photographs here until..._

A light tapping on his studio door made Lee jump. He was more than surprised to see Katie Bell standing there. She looked disheveled; her blonde hair piled lazily no top of her head, and her body swimming in a sweatshirt far too big for her. Lee always found her delicate features astoundingly beautiful, but now her beauty seemed tragic, like a waste of perfection. He couldn't resist the urge to hold her. and she gladly accepted his embrace.

"Can I ask a favor of you, Lee?" she questioned, her red, puffy eyes brimming with anticipation.

"Anything…" Lee whispered, and he meant it.

"I wrote lyrics to Stubby's song…lyrics for Fred. And well, I wanted to perform it at his funeral," she said quickly, looking at her feet and blushing.

"That sounds brilliant," Lee said, instantly pleased with the idea of a musical tribute written specifically for Fred. He wished silently that it might ease his own pain a little as well. "I'll send an owl to Stubby, he only left an hour ago."

Katie smiled and hugged him again. Lee felt warmth spread through him at her touch, and it brought a comfort he hadn't felt for days.

Soon, Stubby was back in the studio, and tuning his guitar, while Katie paced nervously outside the door, reading her lyrics over and over again.

"If you're this nervous now, how will you be able to do it this afternoon?" Lee asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"It's Stubby Boardman!" she exclaimed in a frantic whisper.

"For Fred," he assured her.

Katie swallowed deeply, mustered up her courage, and walked into the studio. She shook the musician's hand and they quickly settled down to business.

Lee watched anxiously as Katie and Stubby seemed to be selecting the proper key for her voice. He couldn't hear her, as the studio was soundproofed and they hadn't yet turned on the mics. Soon, Katie took a position at the microphone next to Stubby's chair. Her soft grey eyes met Lee's as she took a deep breath and flicked her mic on. Soon, she began to sing.

_You, you left the light on.  
There's a chance I might have tripped, girl  
You were there to hold on._

Lee closed his eyes as her voice began to hum through the equipment in the sound room of his studio. He fought to not concentrate on her lyrics, as the gravity of the tribute was too painful, and only listened to the notes and cadences of her gentle voice. The sound flowed over him, calming and taking away his grief. He could hear the pain in her voice, the tragic wailing of the guitar, and yet he was at peace. It calmed him to know that there were still beautiful things in this post-war darkness.

Too soon, the song was finished, and Katie was staring shyly at Lee, looking slightly apprehensive. Lee ignored the slightly lovestruck look that the aging rock star was now giving her, and cracked a small smile. He clapped his hands and turn on his mic.

"Fred would have loved that. He always said he was the luckiest wizard in Britain," Lee met her eyes as a tear fell down her cheeks. She mouthed the words 'thank you' as she went to wipe her eyes.

"You guys feel free to practice up for the next hour. I've got some paperwork to do," said Lee, reluctantly leaving Katie to her task.

When the hour had passed, Lee returned to find Stubby walking out the door while Katie was quietly gathering her things.

"I had best be going, I've got to get ready for the…well," she said, misty eyed.

"Want me to pick you up? We can Apparate together," Lee suggested. He didn't want to go through the day alone.

"I'll see you at my flat in an hour," she said, turning on the spot. Lee grabbed a small box, shoved it in his pocket, and went home to change into black robes.

The Weasley garden was almost as packed as it had been during Bill and Fleur's wedding. Black ribbons donned the chairs where back robed mourners sat gripping black umbrellas in the sudden smattering of rain. The blackness turned Lee's stomach. Fred wouldn't have wanted doom and gloom.

"All this black," whispered Katie. Lee looked over to find her lip quivering. He put an arm around her shoulders.

Lee could hear footsteps approaching with familiarity, and knew that George and Angelina were coming to join them. He turned, relieved to see George unbroken, and hugged him openly. Lee reveled in the relief that his best friend was still here, still well, and would make it. This thought consoled him, and made the pain of the day more bearable.

"Katie, can we talk?" George asked quietly. She nodded and followed him into the shade of a near-by tree. Lee looked quizzically at Angelina, but she just closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Don't worry about all this black, it will be gone in a second," Angelina whispered to Lee, smirking conspiratorially.

Just as George and Katie were returning, tears in both of their eyes, Angelina slipped a box into Lee's hands. With hardly a word, George and Katie began walking through the crowd, slipping identical boxes into the hands of every member of the D.A. in attendance. Lee flipped over the package, noticing the new logo emblazoned on the front. However, upon reading the instructions on the back, he recognized the Wheezes product immediately:

_Weasley's Patented Wet and Wild Water Painter!_

_Simply go outside on a rainy day (don't forget a coat!),_

_And levitate this box high in the clouds._

_Once there, yell "Picasso" and voila! _

_The rain will color your world._

Lee smiled, looking up into the clouds as boxes began floating into the sky, and quickly levitated his own. George stood up, counting loudly to three, and a rousing chorus of 'Picasso' rang out across the Burrow garden.

Suddenly, every drop of rain became a push stroke, streaking all of the black with bright colors in every shade imaginable. Soon, everyone was standing, small children were splashing around in puddles sending spatters of red and blue flying in every direction. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were dancing happily, letting the colors cover them in memories of Fred. George and Angelina stood next to each other, looking up and letting the rain streak down their faces, their hands remained clasped. Everyone smiled in nostalgia, enjoying a release from the servitude of their own grief. Lee looked over to see Katie, her arms out and spinning in a small circle.

_Ignoring the words of your obnoxious little brother;  
kill or be killed spilled the words from your mother.  
I'll lay awake for a while.  
I'll leave the light on a while._

He acted on impulse, took her hands, and began to spin with her. Everyone in attendance at the memorial continued to enjoy the rain until Charlie Weasley stood at the podium and cleared his throat.

"This is a memorial, a day that we remember my brother, Fred, as we return him to the Earth. Let's celebrate his life rather than mourn his death. As we can see, George has already gotten us started," Charlie said, winking at him.

"I remember when I was leaving for my first year of Hogwarts. I tried packing a ton of sweets, as many as I could. Of course, Mum found them and made me get rid of them all.

"Well, when I went to unpack my trunk, I unfolded my socks, and a piece of candy fell out of every pair. I knew it was Fred, because the last sock held a note that said 'Love, Fred.'

"It made my first year away from home easier, knowing that someone besides Mum was thinking of me," Charlie wiped a tear from his eye and stepped off the podium.

Every Weasley had a story, as did many former classmates. Finally, Lee squeezed Katie's hand and they walked to the area near Fred's casket. Lee walked up to the mic.

"I get to talk to most of the Wizarding World every morning. You all know how I feel. So I'm going to give the platform to Stubby Boardman's guitar, and Miss Katie Bell's lovely voice," Lee finished, anxious to hear the song again and really hear the lyrics.

The tie-dyed crowd was completely still, sitting with rapt attention as the voice and the guitar mingled in perfect melody and harmony. Lee closed his eyes where he stood, remembered Fred, and saying his goodbyes.

_But you couldn't last a lifetime._

_Caught between here and the days of it;  
carving her name across your arm with every wish._

_It's hit or miss... her.  
I told you so._

_I measured distance in lines departing the rest of my life.  
But you, you, you... you had better things to do_

Soon, it was time to carry Fred away to the Prewitt Family Plot. Lee stood with Bill and Percy, holding one side of the casket ready to Apparate, while George, Ron and Charlie took the other side. Arthur abstained, opting to follow behind and hold tightly to his wife.

Before he could blink, Fred was in the ground and the mourners were heading back to their homes.

Lee walked over to George and Angelina, just as Katie, Dean, and Seamus were approaching as well.

"Ron and Harry reckon some drinking is in order. You know Fred loves celebrations!" George said, looking to everyone to see if they were up for a party.

"Party at the Burrow!" Seamus laughed, Dean joining him with a quiet chuckle.

They all went to Apparate, but Lee took Katie's wrist, quietly asking her to stay behind for a moment. She met his eyes, looking anxious at what he might say.

"I debated giving this to you, I didn't want to see you more hurt. But, well, he bought it for you, and he would want you to have it," Lee said, avoiding her cautious gaze as he fished in his pockets for the box. It was a simple black ring box, but there was a note attached in Fred's handwriting.

_For Katie,_

_Here's my proof._

_Love,_

Fred.

She opened it and saw the sparkling diamond ring.

Lee let her cry on his shoulder for a good while before helping her slide the ring onto a silver chain on her neck. He clasped it, wiped a tear from her face, and they Apparated to the Burrow.

_If you get put to sleep, like an old dog, you're better off.  
If you get put to sleep;  
I've been cautious with the words I extend.  
Allow this year before the world starts to end._

_Pray for us all._

_**Lyrics for Katie's song written by me.**_


	8. Momentum

Chapter 7: Momentum

Hermione hugged Mr. and Mrs. Weasley goodbye and went inside the Burrow to get the house ready for the impromptu party. Molly and Arthur, had been pleased with the idea of a party in Fred's honor, but had decided to get away to grieve alone. Mrs. Weasley had even cried a little as she told Hermione where to find the snacks. So Hermione entered to clear the living room of clutter as Ron and his brothers shared another embrace with their parents.

"Be careful boys," said Molly quietly as she at last broke her embrace with Ron. "I think we'll be spending the night with Andromeda. She'll need someone around after all she's lost."

Hermione found the Burrow eerily quiet. The normal murmur of sound and hum of activity was absent, replaced by the echoing of her footsteps on the slatted wooden floor. She transfigured the old sofas of the sitting room into comfortable chairs to accommodate the 13 people expected to attend their impromptu celebration. She lit candles to soften the atmosphere and then moved into the kitchen to lay out snacks.

The kitchen was particularly sad. It looked too clean, too empty, and smelled of nothing but wood and cleaner. Hermione longed for the sound of family chattering loudly, the smell of mince pies, and the clutter that usually defined the kitchen's ambiance.

In the quiet, she heard a small sob coming form the front porch. Hermione opened the door to find Ginny curled on the swing, but before she could step out to offer a comforting shoulder, she saw Harry's arms wrap around her. Hermione felt relief. Those two no longer needed as much worry as she had previously reserve for them.

Hermione decided to busy herself by releasing streamers from her wand in Weasley Wheezes Magenta. She didn't hear Ron approach, and the feeling of his hand on her back gave her chills. He leaned in close to her, and whispered in her ear.

"The place looks amazing. Fred would love it," he finished with a kiss on her cheek. The act was so confident and intimate that Hermione was taken back. All it took was a simple touch, and she felt like she belonged to him. She tried to shake herself out of her daze in order to answer him, but he was no longer next to her. However, she knew exactly where to find him.

"Ronald Weasley! Those are for later!" she exclaimed in mock frustration. He just smiled and popped another crisp in his mouth.

"What do you intend to do about it?" he replied, grinning impishly while grabbing a dinner roll.

Hermione simply smiled and drew her wand, causing Ron to drop the roll back in the bowl before making a pouting face.

"Oh, you poor thing! I'm sorry you can't eat your weight in snacks!" she said, throwing her hand over her head and sighing melodramatically.

"I know! Whatever will I do? I am doomed!" Ron said, with equal melodrama. "Oh wait, I know. I'll just disarm the cruel witch who is trying to starve me."

Before Hermione could react, Ron pressed her against the wall and began tickling her. Hermione was laughing so hard she couldn't reach her wand. Finally, she managed to squeal a meager 'stop', and Ron's hands settled on her hips.

The smirks disappeared from their faces as Ron's hands began to rub lightly along her hips. Their faces became flushed and their breathing heavy when he began to lean in slowly, and Hermione's mind began screaming for their lips to touch.

_You are the dark ocean bottom  
And I am the fast sinking anchor  
Should I fall for you,  
Should I fall for you?_

"We have boooooooze!" shouted a singsong voice from the back door. Ron and Hermione jumped back quickly and began busying themselves, trying to hide their red faces. Angelina and George came in doing a small dance with their matching bottles of Ogden's.

"No fair! That's what we brought!" exclaimed Seamus, entering from the porch with Dean.

"Well my goodness. I seem to have brought an cadre of spirits from The Leaky Cauldron, but I might as well take it back to Mum," said Hannah Abbot.

"I don't think that's necessary," answered Neville, taking the mixers from her hands and setting them on the table.

"Hmm. I didn't know that we had to bring provisions, but I do have a game to play," Luna said, appearing as if from nowhere. Everyone looked apprehensive, but nodded anyway.

When Lee, Katie, Harry, and Ginny came in as the sun set, Hermione and Ginny served snacks in the sitting room. Hannah mixed the drinks with surprisingskill, as Neville looked on in admiration. The guests at The Burrow were shocked to find that one of their classmates…especially the sweet-faced Hufflepuff…was so skilled at creating tasty libations. Hermione smiled to herself. War caused the strangest, and strongest, attachments.

The arrival of Alicia Spinnett left Hermione with nowhere to sit. Ron, Harry, and Neville all immediately got up to offer their chairs, and fell victim to good-natured ribbing from Seamus, who never seemed to have the time for manners for anyone.

"I'll be fine," Hermione assured them, and they reluctantly sat back down. Hermione took a deep breath and walked slowly across the room. Her heart began pounding in her chest as she realized all eyes were on her. She tried to calm her nerves as she took a seat in front of Ron's chair and leaned against his legs. Relief spread through her when his hand found her shoulder.

"Okay then. I learned this parlor game from a Muggle cousin. It can get a little risqué, but I'm assuming that's why there are libations," Luna said, raising a pale eyebrow at Hermione.

Hermione became nervous, knowing full well how improperly intimate Muggle games could get. She slyly checked Luna's pocket for a Twister board, but could find no evidence that that was what Luna had in mind. Hermione reluctantly nodded at Luna, who quickly resumed her instructions.

"Well, one first states something, anything, they've never done. Those in the group who have done this activity must take a shot of Firewhisky. I warn you, playing with a Muggle who knows you're a witch will get you inebriated quite quickly," she said, smiling as if she might be remembering such an experience fondly.

"I will start. I have never met the head of the Rotfang Conspiracy," Luna said proudly. When everyone looked at her uncertainly, she clarified. "Rufus Scrimgeour."

Harry, Ron, Ginny, George, and Hermione each took a shot. Hermione tried to suppress a cough as the Firewhisky burned her throat, but couldn't. Ron patted her back gently and quickly summoned a chaser for her. After a loud clearing of the throat snapped her from a daze, Hermione realized she and Ron had been staring at one another. Everyone chuckled.

"My turn!" exclaimed Lee, who was seated between Luna and Katie. "I have never snogged a Quidditch player."

Hermione took another shot. At first, she thought of Krum, but decided that could hardly be considered snogging. Then, she thought back to her kiss with Ron; the way he lifted her off her feet, the way she clung to him in desperation. Now _that_ was snogging. The liquid burned less this time.

Hermione giggled uncharacteristically when she noticed Harry and Ginny toasting each other, a smile on their faces. Alicia, Angelina, and Katie all took a shot simultaneously. Hermione was unsurprised, but Angelina gasped.

"Alicia!" Angelina exclaimed, disbelief marring her smooth face.

"Oh come on! Who hasn't snogged Wood?" she shot back defensively.

George took a shot next, and vanished one away with a flourish of his wand in honor of Fred. Next, Seamus took a shot, glancing furtively at Dean, who joined him.

"Wait…What?" said Lee. Seamus just shook his head, unwilling to elaborate. A lot of badgering followed before Ron broke it up.

"Well Lee, that was an excellent one. You managed to give us the upper hand," Ron said, leaning over to clap him on the back. When he leaned back, both of his hands rested on Hermione's arms. Chills ran up her spine at the feeling of his warm, hard hands on her bare arms. All eyes turned to Neville when he raised his hand.

"Ummm," he started, blushing and staring over at Harry. "Do I have to drink if when I snogged a Quidditch player, she wasn't on the team?"

A dinner roll went flying across the room and hit him on the forehead. Ginny was red faced and her arms were crossed.

"Oh for heaven's sake, just drink, Nev," Ginny said, smirking at his harried look. Neville took his shot amidst a cadre of catcalls. Hermione looked apprehensively at Harry, but he was just grinning and contributing to the teasing.

"Well, to get away from the snogging theme," Katie started, red-faced from her one shot. "I have never had a detention…from someone who wasn't Old Toadface," she smiled, as everyone exclaimed mockingly at the injustice of having to get drunk. Every person in the room took a shot, while simultaneously proclaiming their innocence. Hermione sensed there was something amiss.

"Luna, what did you do?" Hermione asked.

"I thought we were off the subject of snogging," she said, turning her large eyes on Hermione without a blush. Everyone laughed until George raised his glass, a tear in his eyes.

"This laughter is for Fred, we all know he wouldn't have wanted us sitting in mournful silence." he whispered. Angelina kissed him gently and they took their drink together. Everyone drank again, and Hermione began to wobble. She felt Ron's hands steady her. He put a knee on either side of her so she could lean against him for support. She closed her eyes and let out a hum as he began to play with her hair. When she opened her eyes, she saw that everyone was staring. She straightened herself up and tried to hide her blush.

"Well, Angelina, it's your turn," she said as stiffly as possible.

"I've never had a near death experience," she smiled, looking at Harry. He rolled his eyes.

"Do I have to drink like 10 times now?" he asked her mockingly.

"No. One is enough. Though I do think that a rule book for this game would be helpful," Luna said, more to herself than anyone else.

After taking his shot, Harry began leaning heavily upon Ginny, who seemed to hold her liquor very well. Ginny took her drink with a dark look in her eyes, and Harry whispered something in her ear, kissing her softly.

Katie fingered her necklace and drank slowly, as Lee rubbed her back. Hermione picked up her tiny glass, her hand shaking as she remembered the pain that coursed through her body that fearful night at Malfoy Manor. With shocking strength, Ron lifted her onto his lap and held her close, a shot lingering in his free hand. Maybe it was the whisky, but Hermione wasn't embarrassed at all when his nose pressed into her neck.

"Never again," he whispered, holding her more tightly as her legs draped over the edge of the chair.

"Never again," she answered, putting a hand on his face. He turned into her touch and kissed her palm.

_You are the scar on my tissue  
That I show all of my new friends  
Should I show you me,  
Should I show you me?_

George chimed in, thankfully pulling the attention away from Ron and Hermione. "I've never had black hair."

"Wanker!"

"That's just unfair!"

"We'll get you!"

Many members of the room grumbled, as the sounds started to merge together in Hermione's clouded mind.

"I've never kissed a girl!" Ginny exclaimed, causing Harry to drink again. Hermione was grateful that she didn't have to drink, as all the guys took a shot, mutinous looks on their faces at Ginny's mischievous laugh.

No one was surprised much when Luna shrugged and took a shot. A very pink nose now decorated her pale face. "As Harry knows, Cho Chang is very good at kissing," she said after she took another swig, smiling serenely in her current state.

"Blimey…" Lee whispered, and took another shot of his own accord. Everyone laughed and looked to Harry to take his turn.

"Well fine! I've never kissed a bloke," he said, sticking a tongue out at Ginny. Hermione and all of the other girls took a shot, and Hermione became suddenly very giddy. She could feel her control slipping.

"What the hell!" she heard Seamus yell next to her. He and Dean fed each other shots. Everyone stared, mouths hanging open, including Hermione.

"Oh, like you didn't know!" Seamus said, tossing a pillow at Ginny.

"Well of course I did," she said, rolling her eyes. "He never looked at me like he looks at you."

Dean shrugged when all eyes turned toward him and put a hand possessively on Seamus' shoulder.

"I knew too," said Neville. "You guys weren't very discreet," he finished uneasily.

"Well that's Seamus' fault! He…He can't…hiccup…resist me," Dean said, his words slurring.

Seamus smacked Dean's arm and they began wrestling around. Soon, Lee and George joined the fray while Hermione leapt up to try to move the glasses out of the way. The rest of the girls soon rose to help her as Ron and Harry ran into the other room. Hermione barely noticed as she tried to keep her balance.

Ron and Harry returned with a patented 'Weasley's Wizarding Wireless', which Hermione thought looked like a Muggle phonograph from the early twentieth century. They opened the box underneath and speakers flew out, attaching themselves into different corners of the room. George got an excited look on his face and ran up to his old bedroom. He returned with a magical record, which glittered and flickered as if it were anxious to be played.

"This is the _Venomous Tentaculas'_ first album, Fred's all time favorite," he said, the smile starting to wane at the sad memory. He slid a bright disc that was about the size of a dinner plate into something that looked more like a mouth than a slot. The wireless erupted with loud music, complete with horns, guitars and bass creating a catchy beat. Hermione's wobbly state gave way to an overwhelming urge to dance.

Angelina and George were already flailing around ridiculously and singing along with the melody. At first, Hermione was a little worried at how quickly George seemed to vacillate between melancholy and happiness, but when she looked at him carefully, she could see a smile that did not quite meet his eyes. Hermione knew it would take a while, and was immensely thankful for Angelina, who would undoubtedly do the most to pick up the broken pieces of George.

Harry was twirling Ginny around, her hair fanning about her body, gleaming smiles on both of their faces. Hermione jumped up and grabbed Luna. Her whole body felt light as she swayed to the music, and the two girls couldn't stop laughing.

Dean and Seamus were doing some very naughty moves with Alicia, who was caught in the middle between them, looking positively ecstatic. Lee was trying in vain to coax Katie to join the dance, but her somber expression stopped him. He sat next to her and they talked over the music.

Hermione continued to sway and spin, imitating Luna's dreamy styles as the music flooded her. Her face hurt from the defined and constant smile. Truly, this was how Fred would want to be remembered. That fact was not lost on anyone in the room. Hermione lifted her arms to spin again when she felt arms circle around her waist. She lost her balance slightly and leaned into his chest.

"Sorry I didn't join you sooner. I was enjoying the view," he said in her ear, his hand moving up and down her sides. Hermione was a little too far gone to be shocked by his implications and confidence, so she simply let out a purring noise and faced him.

His face was very pink, and his long hair had fallen messily in front of his eyes that looked to be a brighter blue than she had ever seen them, causing her to nearly gasp out loud. He had a dazed look about him as his hips swayed with hers completely off beat from the music, and a goofy grin stretched across his mouth. Without thinking, Hermione ran a hand down the side of his face, enjoying the tickling feeling of his stubbled face. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

"Hermione…I…"

"Last call everyone!" shouted Hannah. Everyone hooted and hollered as she came down the stairs hand in hand with Neville, who was blushing like mad and trying to keep his balance. Hannah went to the kitchen and mixed another set of drinks, floating the tray into the living room so that everyone would have one.

"I have never been in love," she said, raising her glass. George and Angelina immediately emptied their drinks, and set about snogging right there in the living room. Ginny was gazing at Harry dreamily as he took his shot and wrapped an arm around her. She took her last drink and almost fell on the spot. Katie drank with a tear in her eye. Lee drank looking over at her and offering her a handkerchief.

Dean and Seamus took their drinks with a yell as though they were at a sporting match. Alicia shook her head and set a full glass on the table, looking slightly forlorn. Luna also abstained.

"I've never felt drawn enough to anyone to give my soul up. Of course I had a crush on Ronald, but we all know that would never happen," she said, smiling. Ron let out a cough, shifting uncomfortably next to Hermione.

Neville picked his drink up and faced Hannah, "Things can always change," he said drinking his concoction. Hannah smiled and held his gaze, but soon everyone's eyes were on Ron and Hermione. Ron bravely raised his glass and drank his in one gulp. Hermione, her heart racing, also took her drink. She looked to Ron, but his expression became flat and unreadable.

Hermione's head began to spin in panic. Did Ron not feel the same way she did? Was he going to back away form her? Had she moved too fast? When he drank, he must have been thinking of Lavender. They were officially a couple after all. Hermione suppressed angry tears as Hannah handed out sobering potions.

_All we need is a little bit of momentum  
Breakdown these walls that we've built around ourselves  
All we need is a little bit of inertia  
Breakdown and tell, breakdown and tell_

Everyone took a potion. "Okay! These should take effect in about 30 minutes, so be careful Apparating home. Take a buddy if you can, and make sure you concentrate. Neville, can I help you out? I hold my liquor pretty well," Hannah said. And with that, she and a very besotted looking Neville vanished from the Burrow.

George grabbed a broom and he and Angelina walked out the front door. Dean, Seamus, and Alicia all left together, causing Ginny to giggle uncontrollably. She obviously had not yet sobered. Hermione wasn't sober, but her heart ached too much for laughter. Lee placed a hand on the small of Katie's back and they disappeared.

Luna walked up to Hermione and kissed her forehead, before whispering in her ear, "Be careful jumping to conclusions. You're bound to miss a step." And with that, she was gone. Hermione was so distracted by the odd statement that she barely noticed that she and Ron were standing alone in the sitting room.

"You might want one," Ron grunted at her, handing her a small glass.

Hermione hadn't even noticed that she had neglected to take Hannah's potion, but following Ron's reminder, she let the cherry liquid slide down her throat as she attempted to regain her composure. Ron had done the same and was now seated in a chair, staring blankly at the fire. Hermione resisted the urge to touch his shoulder, too glum to move. After a few more agonizing moments of silence, she finally found her voice.

"Well, I'd best be off," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Ron finally turned to meet her eyes, his were bloodshot. "I didn't think you had to be home until tomorrow," he said, a glint of indignation in his voice.

"Why don't you just call Lavender, since she's the love of your life!" Hermione spat. She immediately gasped and covered her mouth, realizing too late that she should wait until the potion had time to work before speaking.

"Lavender? How could you…why would you think…But you drank your shot! I s'pose you're off to see your twoo wuv Vicky?" he said, sneering back with obvious hurt etched through his menacing face. "I don't love Lavender, never did."

"Well I don't love Victor, and I find it positively abhorrent…"

Hermione's voice was silenced as Ron's lips were suddenly pressed against hers, leaving her standing frozen in place. But when his hands gripped the sides of her face, she kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck. As his tongue swept across her lips, her tongue mixed with his and Hermione's legs begin to weaken. This time, she knew it wasn't the drink. She explored his mouth and reveled in the feeling of his soft lips engulfing hers. She sighed when one of his hands threaded in her hair.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash and a scream, causing both Ron and Hermione to jump back. They drew their wands and moved slowly to the kitchen, where Charlie was traipsing through the door, a petite woman thrown over his shoulder. She looked up at them, and Hermione recognized her instantly.

"Well hello, Verity," she said, smirking at her absurdity.

"Hullo and goodbye!" she yelled as Charlie whisked her up the stairs.

"Absolutely despicable! He could have splinched her! And such behavior on a day of mourning," exclaimed Percy, walking in with Audrey and helping her out of her jacket.

"We went out with Charlie for drinks, and Verity was there. Charlie got a little out of hand," Audrey said, smiling at Percy's indignation.

"We've got some left over sober up potion," Ron said, handing them a small bottle.

"I'm not sure it would be prudent to go up there right now," Percy said, gazing wearily upward. Audrey leaned over and whispered in his ear. He went slightly pink and nodded.

"Well, goodnight then," he said to Ron and Hermione, rushing up the stairs. Audrey waved and followed him.

Ron began to chuckle heartily, his shoulders shaking, and a wide grin spreading across his face. Hermione joined him, laughing until tears were in her eyes.

"Some night, huh?" he asked, putting an arm around her shoulders. Hermione nodded, trying to wipe her eyes.

"It was certainly unexpected."

"What do you think it is about funerals that make people so horny?" Ron asked, smiling.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked at his candor, but finding it funny just the same.

"I'm serious. It feels like no one is sleeping alone tonight," Ron said, blushing deeply.

"Well I supposed being faced with such a painful loss makes everyone cling to what they still have," she whispered, looking up at him.

"Oh 'Mione," Ron groaned, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to his chest. Hermione wound her arms around his waist, pulling her face against him so firmly she could hear the beating of his heart. She breathed in deeply, savoring the smells that were so uniquely his; food, wool, and something indescribable that was all his own.

"I'm definitely happy you're here, and I plan on holding you all night," he whispered. He kissed her again with that same new and alarming confidence, pulling her into him and moving his mouth over hears. He ran a hand up and down her back and she leaned languidly into his touch. Ron pulled his mouth away and ran his lips over her jaw and down the side of her neck. He kissed behind her ear and pressed his hand flat against her bum. Hermione let out a moan at the new touch.

Ron grunted in response and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around him and deepened the kiss. Hermione was struck by Ron's composure and self-confidence in this situation. Gone was the blushing and unsure boy that had infuriated her for so many years. Sometime during the past year, something had changed in Ron. Hermione watched as he slowly and painfully found himself in the midst of the chaos of their lives. Ron was a man, and he was a man Hermione could love for the rest of her life.

He carried her up all five flights of stairs with ease, his lips never leaving her face and neck, and only set her down when they got inside his room and closed the door. She looked up at him, laughing, and found the state he was in magnificent. His lips were swollen, his cheeks were pink, and his mouth was curved up in a shy smirk. They stood there, timid and mesmerized, for a long while before Ron's hand reached out and slipped down the strap of her camisole and he kissed her bare shoulder. She instinctively moved closer to him, so his lips could move along her bare skin with greater ease.

"You are so soft," he murmured, chancing to put a hand up the back of her shirt. "Is this okay?"

"More than okay, Ron. I've wanted this for so long," she said, taking a page from his book and attempting to be unafraid.

"Me too, love," he said, kissing her lips fervently. He tugged at her top while Hermione lifted her arms to assist him. At last, he broke their kiss only long enough to cast her shirt aside. Hermione sighed at the feeling of his large, warm hands caressing her exposed skin. She threaded her fingers in his hair to deepen the kiss, earning a grunt of satisfaction from Ron.

Hermione tugged at his plain white shirt and slid it easily over his head. As he kissed down her neck and to her chest, she ran her hand up and down his back, letting her fingers linger over the muscles in his shoulders and memorizing the feeling of every rib. He was still very thin from their journey, wjth nothing but bone and muscle mingling in place beneath the smooth skin on his back. As she ran her hands over him, Ron let out a moan that caused the heat to pool between her legs. In response, Hermione ran a finger over his spine and noted it was curved quite uncomfortably to reach down to her. Ron seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he lifted her up and walked over to his bed.

She was now strdsaddling him, her knees pressing into the bed on either side of him. She took her new position as an opportunity to grab his face and kiss him, taking control. As she did so, her hips pressed into his and she felt his hardness between her legs. He grabbed her hips and pressed against her again, sending jolts through her body and causing them both to moan.

"Blimey, Hermione. The fact that you're here … we're here … that you're kissing me…that you want me. It's more than I ever thought would be possible a few months ago. It's just…you're amazing," he finished, smiling and caressing her cheek.

She couldn't speak. She couldn't answer him. She was too caught up in his words, his voice, the reality of it all would have surely exposed every private piece of her by speaking now.

As Ron pressed his nose into her neck, his hot breath felt visceral on Hermione's skin. His hands fumbled with the clasps of her bra before finding success rather quickly. Hermione's heart was racing and her nerves were on edge because she would soon be exposed for the first time -- facing Ron's gaze as his eyes took in her nakedness.

Ron paused, leaning his lips to her ear and whispering, "Is this okay?"

Hermione knew she wasn't the only one feeling nervous, for she could feel his hands shaking as they held the ends of her simple black bra. She nodded while trying to slow her breath.

"I just don't want you to be nervous," he continued, still whispering.

"But I am nervous," she whispered in return, laughing while pressing her forehead to his and meeting his eyes.

"Me too," he smiled; a weight seemed to leave his shoulders at the admission.

"You haven't done anything like this before?" Hermione asked. She would have thought that he had gone at least get this far with Lavender, especially considering the way he seem to fall all over her…and vise versa.

"No…not at all. It wouldn't have been right with anyone else," he said sincerely, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You?"

"Never really had the chance, though I agree with you," she smiled, kissing him gently.

As their kiss progressed again to a comfortable pace, Ron pulled back to slip her bra over her arms. Her heart began to race again, and all of her classic irrational thoughts flooded to the surface. She worried Ron would find her breasts too small. She had moles about her skin that might repulse him. Due to their long journey, her mocha skin was paler and her ribs protruding. Hermione shuddered with fear as Ron openly gazed at her.

"Oh, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, putting a hand under her chin and turning her face to look at him. "You're lovely," he whispered, kissing her chest. He put a shaking hand over one of her breasts, and Hermione arched her back, grinding into Ron's erection again. "Bloody hell," he whispered, brushing his thumb lightly over her nipple.

Hermione threw her head back at the new sensation. Ron's mouth latched on to her breast as she let out a weak whimper, urging him on. She gloried at the life she felt coursing through both of them; her pounding heart, his warm breath, her small moans, and his anxious gestures. All of these things screamed to her that they had made it out of the darkness and found what they were fighting for on the other side.

Ron's hips were bucking against hers and the pressure on her center felt exquisite. Soon, they had built up a rhythm of movement, causing the warm friction between their jeans to spread through Hermione's body. Suddenly, Ron's hands tightened around her, and he let out a moan. After a few seconds, his breathing slowed and he hung his head.

"'Scuse me," he said, setting Hermione gently to the side and casting 'scourgify' on his trousers. He sighed heavily and laid his bright red face in his hands. Hermione knew enough about the human body to deduce what had just happened, but was confused at why Ron was so upset. She thought an orgasm was the point.

"Ron? Is everything alright?" she asked, leaning her bare chest against his side. He turned to her and held her in his arms.

"I just didn't want to leave you, umm, disappointed."

"On the contrary. I'm quite pleased. That reaction shows I'm not complete rubbish," she whispered, kissing down the side of his face.

"I don't think there is any possible way for you to be rubbish," he murmured, pressing her down against the bed. He held her hands above her head and kissed at a tantalizing slow pace until he was at her throat. He ran his tongue down to the valley between her breasts, and Hermione could almost purr at his aggression, his surety, his enthusiasm.

As the kisses returned to her lips, his hand let go of hers and moved slowly to the waistline of her jeans. He flicked open the button and unzipped her slowly, letting his hand rest flat against her abdomen. Their breathing quickened simultaneously, and their eyes met.

_That you are the rain on the fire  
Deep in the trees when no one was looking  
Should I speak of this,  
Should I speak of this?_

"I want to touch you, Hermione," he whispered heavily in her ear.

Hermione's heart was leaping out of her chest as she lowered her jeans down her hips. Ron helped pull them over her feet and now she lay across the stark orange of his bedspread in nothing but a pair of black panties. Ron slid next to her, pressing his body to her side, and draping an arm over her stomach.

"Mione…" he groaned, as his long fingers dipped below the elastic of her underwear.

When he reached her folds and a cautious finger probed them, they both took a sharp breath at the contact. Ron's fingers reached farther down, and as one entered her, she gripped the sheets and he groaned loudly.

"Tell me what to do, Hermione. Tell me what you want," he pleaded, his voice like gravel.

All she could do was moan, but she grabbed his wrist and moved his fingers up to the clumping of nerves above her entrance. She guided his hand in quick, soft motions until she could no longer concentrate on his request and had to throw her head back.

Suddenly, his hand left her and he was moving down the bed. He slid her panties slowly down her legs and away from her feet. She could scarcely breathe. She was so scared. He kneeled in front of her now bent legs and put a hand on each knee.

"Please trust me, Hermione. I just want to know you, all of you. I won't hurt you, love. I'll never hurt you," he said gently, parting her legs before him. She whimpered, unable to express how very fearful she was.

He ran his hands up and down her thighs, creating a slow and calming rhythm and causing her body to loosen itself from the grips of anxiety. He leaned over her, placed a hand on either side of her torso, and kissed down her stomach. She felt his hands open her more, and his breath began to move over her most intimate parts.

Then she felt his tongue, gliding slowly over the nerves she had guided him to earlier. She cried out, partially in apprehension at this new act, and partially because it felt so good. He continued to let his tongue flow quickly over her as her hips arched involuntarily toward his face.

She felt his fingers enter her as his tongue continued on its repetitive path. She could feel a scream building from somewhere deep within her, as all traces of apprehension left her body. Her limbs tightened, and then her jaw clenched. She could feel the climax building with more intensity than she could ever achieve herself.

Soon the wave came over her, and she said his name over and over again, hoping that when it was over he would still be there, and that this wasn't just some perfect dream she had concocted out of loneliness and desperation.

When she opened her eyes and calmed her breathing, he was looking at her with complete awe, shock marring his features. She suddenly grew very, very self-conscious. She turned away from his gaze, trying to hide herself.

"Everything you do is amazing, I swear," he said with adoration, sitting up on the side of the bed, running his hand over her bare stomach. She could see his other hand resting in his lap, twitching every now and then. She ached to touch the erection she could see beneath his black pants. She wanted to make him feel just as good, loved, and complete as he made her feel. She sat up quickly, sidling over to him before she lost her nerve.

She ran her hand down his bare chest, and his stomach sucked in as her touch moved down. Finally, she was at the clasp of his trousers, and they were both holding their breath. She slowly, and bravely, unzipped his pants. She could feel the soft skin at the head of his hard cock poking out of his boxers, and she ran her fingers softly over it, trying to learn, to educate herself. He moaned immediately when her hand contacted his hot, throbbing flesh.

Filled with a sense of power, she reached under his boxers and wrapped her hand around his length. Her hand could barely wrap around him, but it felt perfect to feel his hips buck and hear his breath quicken under her ministrations. He wrapped an arm around her back, and she faced him, continue to pump her hand in keeping with his moans, judging what he wanted.

Soon, he put a hand over hers, stopping her, and she gazed at him apprehensively. Was she doing it wrong? Was she hurting him?

He turned and laid her back gently against the soft orange covering of his bed. He lay beside her, moving her hair away from her forehead and kissing her reverently.

"Before this goes any longer, something needs to be said," he spoke resolutely, and she reached up and placed her hand over his on her shoulder, concerned.

"Ron?"

"I've loved you since I met you. I've known I loved you since I was poisoned. I want to love you forever. I want you to love me back," he said, meeting her eyes. His eyes swam with this determination that spoke of how changed he was, but how the wonderful parts of him still lingered somewhere inside.

"I've loved you since I met you. I've known I loved you since you offered to help with Buckbeak's trial. I will love you forever. I do love you back," she said. Unbidden tears fell down her face, and he promptly kissed them away, his lips touching her cheek so lightly, that chills invaded her body.

_You are a mirage in the distance  
That defies the heat of the desert  
Should I believe in you,  
Should I believe in you?_

He moved on top of her, her face full of adoration and apprehension. She let her legs open for him; dropping to each side, and in doing so, pressed her center directly against his still throbbing erection. She moaned deeply at the hardness pressed against her.

He took his hands and bent her legs, and the cool air against her exposed opening felt like anticipation in her current position. His declarations of forever had made any self-conscious feeling she may have had go entirely out of his small attic window, and now she just waited to finally be a part of him in every way. He was leaning up on his arms, his face hovering over her.

"I've heard this hurts, love. Please tell me. I can't hurt you. I don't think I could take it," He whispered, his voice trembling from restraint. She wanted to tell him that in reality it would hurt her, but she didn't want to push him away, so she leaned her lips up and pressed them against his, pulling him closer to her.

She felt the tip of his hardness at her opening, and lifted her hips to meet him. When he entered her, they both let out loud gasps, though for different reasons. A pain ripped through her, sharp, and then dulling almost instantly. She gripped his shoulders tightly, in hopes that he wouldn't notice.

However, after a few moments, Ron still hadn't moved, and she loosened her grip to lean her head back and look at him.

"I hurt you. I know I did. I felt it," he said miserably, though his cock still throbbed inside her.

"Ron. I need you. I want you. Please move. Please love," she pleaded, not wanting to deter him away from her and into some dark place or flashback.

Ron moved inside her, and as his pace quickened, the heat within her intensified. She could feel the rush of wetness between them, and the movements they shared became more eased and rhythmic. She held onto him tightly, and when she felt his arms tense, she closed her eyes and arched her hips to meet him. He thrust into her, and she felt his cock pulsate inside her, causing her to yell out.

He whispered her name, burying his nose in her hair and holding her tightly. They lay there in a sweaty and tangled mass until finally the haze had cleared and they were left to bask in each other.

"Third year? Really?" he asked suddenly, tracing lazy circles around her navel.

"Yeah. You were so good to offer your help and to forget our petty fight. I just couldn't fight it. Of course as a thirteen-year-old girl, I wasn't sure what love was, but it wasn't long until I figured it out. I couldn't live without you for long. And it killed me whenever I was," she finished, her voice cracking a little with the painful reflections.

He kissed down the side of her face, letting his declarations of love reach her ears like music over and over again.

_These rules are made to break and these walls are built to fall  
These rules are made to break us_

_**AN: The Venemous Tentaculas are meant to sound like Reel Big Fish. Stay tuned for the epilogue, and as always, leave me some love! This chapter too a long time and is extra long, I would love reviews for the fruits of my labor!**_


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